Adrenaline Rush
by Let's Explode
Summary: Hex has never wanted anything or anyone but herself, but a certain misfit trudges in suddenly with an offer she could never refuse. In exchange for only her help, he would give her what she thinks she now needs. Who is she to say no? Mello/OC
1. Prologue

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_**A**_d**r**e_n_ali**n**_e_ **R**u_s_h

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_Best of cruel intentions._  
_Finding what they fail to mention._  
_No truth, all pretension._  
_Raise your hand to get attention.  
_- _Red Stars, _The Birthday Massacre

_Prologue_

The air is a little too thick for his taste, the temperature stifling and the air, nauseating. It smells too much of weed, cigarettes, sex and sweat. It all would have been disgusting to him, had he been a less driven sort of man. Or not a man, not yet anyway, but Mello is growing fast, both physically as well as mentally.

The area is crowded with people, sweaty bodies pressed against one another on the makeshift dance floor, ignoring the haphazard wreck around them. In almost every corner of the room, he sees cobwebs, old furniture or shattered glass. Dust is coating every inch of the littered space. Blinding neon lights flash and flicker, and he can feel the music pulsing around him.

Mello, being a sheltered sort of boy, is not at all used to this. He finds it all overwhelming, confusing, and even annoying. He sees scantily clad women and couples grinding against each other. Others are drinking themselves stupid in a corner, or even inhaling a white, powdery substance that Mello suspects is a drug. He feels out of place, standing there in his modest black cotton pants and long-sleeved shirt. He doesn't belong here.

A drunken man squeezes past him and Mello inwardly frets. He does not like being touched by these barbarians -these Neanderthals- but he knows he cannot voice his opinion aloud there. It will only draw attention, and he is also short on time. Mello is on a mission, and he will –in one way or the other- get what he has come here for. What he wants.

If otherwise, then damn, but he won't leave. Mello has been trailing after his quick-moving target nonstop, and now that he has a lock on her location, he cannot afford to let this chance slip through his fingers. It will only be a matter of time before his target moves again. Mello is making this a competition against time.

He will go against all odds to get what he wants. To beat Near. To win and be number one in the eyes of all.

Even if that means involving himself in illegal activities- just like he is involving himself in this illegal rave now. Mello has noticed that his target tends to stray towards things like these. It unnerves him, confuses him, and throws him into a serious state of dubiousness. Why would one of L's –_the _L-'s most important contacts engage in pointless, unlawful things like raves and black markets? Has the contact no sense of self-preservation?

He knows that illegal activities are more or less a given in this contact's profession, but that reasoning doesn't sound too solid too him. L has promised that his criminal contacts would only have their records free of any charges while he is alive. Now, the deal is invalid, and Kira is still roaming freely. L's contacts may be free to do as they wish, but only fools would damn self-preservation for the heck of it.

Mello wants to call this contact an idiot, but that would be going against L's judgment. L is a genius, after all. L would have only wanted to work with people of similar intelligent quotients as he. No way in any lifetime would L ever settle for anything other than the best that can be offered.

So Mello plans to be the best of the best. Whatever it takes him.

Taking another glance at Matt's homemade locator-sonar-thing, he makes a mental reminder to thank Matt someday for helping him locate the freak. Mello feels anticipation. On the pitch black screen, a bright green speck begins to blink faster. Mello knows he is close to the contact then, and he cannot hold in his patience. Rudely, hastily, he pushes past the throng of people, heading closer and closer to-

Who, so it seems, happens to be directly before him that very moment.

His head snaps up so quickly, he gets a whiplash, but he is more stunned by the sight that greets him. There is a fair-haired girl grinning in a cat-like manner. Her arms are thrown up in the air, her body swaying in sync with the music, mouthing the lyrics with her eyes closed. Surrounding her is her own group of admirers- too shady looking for her, in Mello's opinion.

Mello wants to scream at this girl, because apparently she has no decency at all! He thinks he a whore for seducing these pathetic, sex-deprived imbeciles; even if her movements are more playful than raunchy, even if her grins are more excited than seductive. She looks to be fourteen or fifteen, like him, but that is totally beside the point.

Has the world come to this? Mello doesn't want to know.

Thoroughly agitated, he marches to her and grabs her by the arm tightly. He all but drags her towards the nearest exit. It seems too far away across the sea of dancing bodies. The girl doesn't yet struggle, and Mello just passes her reaction off as surprise. After all, it isn't everyday when some random stranger grabs you in public.

But this belief is thrown out the window when he finally notes the self-satisfied look in her eyes. Mello doesn't ask –the music is too loud- and she doesn't answer the look in his eyes. She decides against protesting verbally or physically, a fact that throws Mello off. He doesn't get the chance to think too much into it, though.

One of her admirers from earlier suddenly blocks his path, dumbly believing that such a man as himself can intimidate Mello so easily. The nitwit has his arms folded across his broad chest, and he looks down at Mello like he is the lowest form of trash there is. Mello grits his teeth. He doesn't have time for this idiocy!

"Hey. Where do you think you're taking her, Blondie?" the man sneers at him. Mello discredits him for coming up with such an unoriginal nickname.

Mello almost answers with a retort easily ten times ruder, but then, Miss Stupid Seductress replies for him, sighing in undisguised irritation. "Get out of the way, bubba. I don't need any help, and I don't want it either. I'm not an invalid, and to be honest, I find your attempt in 'defending my honor' really insulting."

She pulls her arm away from Mello's grasp, but -Mello notices this with a smirk- makes no move to leave his side. The girl keeps her gaze dead locked on the man. "I do whatever damn well I please, and I didn't come here to please you. Now, if you would step aside- he and I want to talk."

Well, at least she is finally acknowledging Mello. Sort of. Although Mello hardly enjoys being interrupted when he is about to speak, he can't bring himself to complain too much. She has already voiced her wish to speak with him this instant. And that is all he really cares about, as of that moment.

And if her snarky, witty reply is any indication, then she might not be as stupid as he first assumed her to be. He can already gather that she is a confident, cocky, quick-tongued sort- the most beneficial type of person that will suit his plans perfectly.

He and the girl squeeze past the man, and Mello doesn't miss the dirty glare shot right at him. He returns it with his own, but it is short-lived. The girl, now free from his hold, walks two paces ahead of him, takes the lead (Mello realizes this rather grudgingly), and expertly weaves them both through the crowd.

Mello catches a whiff of her scent, and is pleased that he does not smell any alcohol or drug or such on her. It is better for her to be sober when he negotiates. Her arms, neck and hands are coated with body glitter and sweat, which he can already tell must be from the heat and her dancing.

Once they exit the club, she keeps on walking. Mello is glad that she realizes that remaining near the perimeter of the condemned club isn't proper privacy. The girl doesn't yet spare a glance to check if he is still following her, but he supposes he shouldn't be so miffed. After all, he is the one who had approached her. She must know that he will follow her anywhere, as long as she co-operates. Or she must know something else.

She and he only stop in their tracks after walking down an entire block, deeper into the slums of New York. They stand under a single flickering street light, regularly casting shadows and darkness across their features. Mello's hand twitches, not at all missing the haughty look she sends him. She appraises him from down her nose and wears a cocky sort of smile not unlike the one Mello likes to wear.

After giving him a once over, she asks him, bluntly and tactlessly, "So who the hell are you supposed to be, and what do you want? You look a little too perfect and pretty to be in a rave, you know? Your garb's the worst too. People tend to stare when you stand out, and damn it, now I've been seen walking out with you." Her eyes narrow. "I don't like to be seen, so your excuse better be good."

Mello shakes his head impatiently. "Don't ever use 'pretty' or any relating word to describe me; it's bloody infuriating. But that's not why I'm here. Just tell me- are you Hex?" He fixes a curious stare to her. It is a wide eyed one that she does not hesitate to return. Mello has been through a lot all his life –death, pain, change, hurt- but he has somehow managed to retain an innocent gleam in his eyes. The girl in front of him however, seems to have lost that gleam eons ago. And she seems to revel in it.

She tilts her head to one side, wearing a cheeky, toothy grin. "You looked pretty sure of who I was when you grabbed me. What audacity, to even ask me that now!"

"Answer the question," Mello orders, voice low.

She ignores him, unimpressed by his attempt at intimidation. She begins bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly, like she has been anticipating meeting him for a while. If Mello doesn't know any better, he would've thought that she has been expecting him to find her, and that all that chase had been to make things more exciting. Winking, she asks him, "That depends. Do you want me to be?"

Mello's eyes narrow. "You areHex."

Lifting her chin up defiantly, she smirks. "Says you."

"Quit the crap," Mello speaks with malice lacing his tone. "I know you like playing games but this isn't funny. You either are, or you are. My sonar and locators have been programmed to find you, and only you, so you must be."

She rolls her eyes, unperturbed by him. "Geez, you need a life. Stalking me isn't exactly what anyone would call a great idea for fun. What're you here for anyway?" She places her hand on her cocked hip, looking at him expectantly, but says nothing else. Mello thinks this is as good as admitting that she is, in fact, Hex. Excellent.

Cryptically, Mello says, "I am in need of your services."

Hex looks affronted. "Do I look like a brothel owner to you? I don't provide any services."

Mello inwardly cringes. He cannot believe that she has interpreted his words as a request for a whore! Mello prays that she is just playing dumb. He is starting to have an extremely difficult time in believing that she is one of L's contacts at all. Finally finding his –extremely tight- voice, he hisses, "Look. You're the direct successor to both Aiber and Wedy, are you not?" The question is rhetorical. Mello is merely stating facts, and she knows it.

"Cut to the chase, Wammy kid," she says darkly, finally regarding him with suspicion. She quits playing dumb, her formerly light aura immediately replaced by one of unhidden mockery. "Tell me why exactly you're here. Tell me why I ought to care what I am or who you are. You've got two minutes, or else."

Well, what a bitch she's turning out to be.

Mello wastes no time in speaking, though. "Wedy's dead and so is…L," he admits his idol's defeat hesitantly. "I'm one of his potential successors. The rest are competing to be L too, but I know they can't win. With your help, I can. I've been searching for you for a little more than a month- I want you in on this with me. I want your skills. I want to defeat Kira."

All traces of the manic grin she has worn have completely vanished. She laughs emptily, shaking her head at him. "Do I look like I care, Wammy kid? Wedy's dead, I know. L's gone, so what? Life goes on. We're not obliged to finish whatever they've started. We're not them." She straightens. "If L couldn't defeat Kira, what makes you so sure that you could? That _we _could? You've yet to impress me."

"I just know," Mello hisses and sets his jaw, hating how poor his excuse sounds, even to him. "If we join forces, we could be just about unstoppable."

Hex raises an eyebrow at him. "I think you've forgotten. I'm a thief. A con-artist, not some detective. So why don't you go run off to your other little friends? I'm sure Near would help you, no problem."

He freezes, eyes widening slightly. Mello has absolutely no idea how she knows of Near's existence. There is no mention in her files about her being acquainted or ever knowing the sheep, and Mello knows that the Wammy's House inhabitants are kept anonymous to even L's contacts. Still, he cannot quell the raging jealousy, knowing that once more, Near has upstaged him. Otherwise, Hex would have heard of Mello, rather than just calling him 'Wammy kid'.

Biting his cheek, he says scathingly, "I came to you specifically for your specialties, not Near's. You and I, we'd be an excellent team." He is getting frustrated. "I don't need another detective, you get me? I want what you can offer me. I want a thief. I want a criminal."

"And I want a motorbike." She rolls her eyes. "You can't just get what you want, kid."

Mello resists the urge to bite his lip. She is being too difficult when Matt has told him that she would be eager to help. This is not good at all.

Stepping closer towards her, Mello wishes that he could see her more clearly. He wants to get a good look at her face, to read her expression and guess what she is really thinking, what she truly thinks about his proposal.

And it seems that she has read his mind, for she steps further away from him with a grin. Mello is getting a little desperate. His two minutes are up, and he has no idea what he should really expect from her now. Belatedly, he realizes that she needs more than just smooth talking to convince her.

"I could pay you," he starts. "Name your price."

She scoffs. "I hardly need your money… Are you actually trying to bribe me? I'm a con-artist, silly boy. Why don't you quit with this pointless chitchat and get straight to the point: why would a person like me be of value to you?"

"I want things to go just as planned," Mello tells. "And my plans involve a high-caliber thief. That's you_._ I'm running a high risk plan, action-packed with guns, blood and money." He mentions the last sentence casually, but he knows that if this doesn't capture her interest, then nothing will. "I'm talking about getting in the mafia."

"Are you now?" she coos, smirking, but even he can hear the hint of interest underlying in her tone. "I bet you don't know shit about what they're like. No, forget that. I bet your 'plans' are just half-sketched ideas." She peers at him intently. "But if I'm wrong, would you care to elaborate?"

Mello makes a mental reminder to never let her boss him around anymore than this once. The priority as of this second is to make his intentions sound thrilling, reasonable and convincing all at once. "As I've said, I want to beat Kira. I've realized that working to achieve this legally just can't be done. Law is too restricting, and I have never liked limitations."

"The mafia has power and influence; authority and control over so many things that can be utilized. They're in a whole other league of their own, and I need that. If I can obtain a firm control over their syndicate, Kira will never know what hit him," Mello declares. "But you must be still wondering where you come in."

She nods. He grins inwardly, rejoicing the fact that she is finally listening with rapt attention. Definitely, she is interested now. "I know what you're capable of," he says grimly. "As much as what you do goes against my values, it'd be foolish not to have you as my accomplice."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she sniffs. "But your plan sounds more like some sick quest for power. What's in it for me?"

Mello's lips twitch. He has her now. "I've read your files, Hex. I know you like control, influence… and I said power. When I have Kira dead, I'll be L, and you-"

"I prefer to exclude myself, whenever L is concerned."

"Fine," he says hurriedly, waving his hand to dismiss her words. "But you see it, don't you? As accomplices, we'd be virtually untouchable. I-_We'll_ be Gods." He prays she does not notice his slip. "You probably know the world has no clue L's dead. When I have Kira gone, I'll take L's place, and we'll both be credited for bringing Kira down. They'll worship you… It's a win-win situation. "

"And all you need now is my agreement," she completes. She gives him a once over, gaze lingering on certain areas: his face, but mostly, his eyes. "You know, you're great at making bargains. You might not be a joke after all." Mello feels insulted, but not really. It seems as though she has meant it as a compliment.

She finally stands close enough for him to see without straining himself. Her hair is a shock of the palest shade of blonde, wild and untamed, like her eyes. Being a hot-blooded male, he notices quickly that she is, for lack of better word: cute. He can easily tell that in her years of adulthood, she will be very easy on the eyes.

Good, he thinks. If he has to spend years with her as an accomplice, he might as well enjoy looking at her.

She wears a confident grin, asking, "What's your name?" He takes this as her way of saying that she will work for… uh, he means, _with_ him.

"Mello."

"Then," she takes his offered hand and shakes it firmly. "The name's Hex."

* * *

TBC

* * *

_A/N: I'm trying something Semi-AU, if only to see how an added character could impact a story. Anyway, to clear out some confusion:_

_Mello's been out of Wammy's for about two months, meaning that this prologue has taken place sometime around late January the year after. He's fifteen, and he's travelled to New York to get help from one of the successors of L's contacts- who are mostly dead... or at least, Wedy is. At this point of time, Aiber is still alive._

_Our chocoholic, Mello, will not yet be a badass-mafia-boss-with-almost-no-morals, since it's only been a few months after L's death. Mello will still keep his intense, temperamental and rash side, but any other drastic personality change will be OOC, and I intend to avoid that. Instead, I will have him slowly become the person we see after the canon time-skip._

_This is my first attempt with having a canon/OC pairing. Maybe the OC has room for improvement, but consider that this is only the prologue. Characters aren't built in a snap, but my opinion, as the writer, is biased anyways._

_It is your opinion that matters. So please, drop a review._


	2. One

This was later then expected. Life equals hectic. Hm, standard disclaimer applied. Need I say anything else?

* * *

_-  
-----AdRenaline  
_U  
S  
h

-

_The snowflakes fall _  
_ Gently to the ground _  
_ The temperature drops _  
_ And your shivers freeze all the rivers around _  
_ But I keep you warm  
- _The tip of the iceberg, Owl City_  
_

_-_

_Chapter One_

_-  
_

It must've been the outside atmosphere, or the cone of rocky road ice-cream from the 24-hour business district they'd passed earlier, taking too much time trickling down the leather of her glove- Hex notices this with a grimace- but she is absolutely freezing. No, _definitely not the ice-cream, _she thinks it ridiculous because having sweet food burden her is _blasphemy! _She blinks, surveying the snow-covered park, the bare trees, the glistening ice on the pavement, and Hex scowls.

Hex hates winter, and she thinks this as she trudges through the semi-deep snow, feeling ice melting it's way in through her boots. Hex hates how it restricts her movement, and how she always has the worst sort of flu at this time of year. It makes her weak, and vulnerable, and not to mention, it would be so much more harder to get things done.

She isn't patient, and she likes things done when she wants them to be. Hex throws her ice-cream away in a random direction, and she listens for the 'splat' before she redirects her attention.

She juts out her lower lip, a pout, because she plans to use this asset of hers like a weapon while she still has her 'cutesy girlish charm', as Wedy called it then. "Mello? Walk faster! It's _cold!" _Maybe she should've said her words a little more nicely, because she sees that her newfound companion is purposefully ignoring her.

How annoying.

"_Choir Boy!" _Hex stomps on her foot and crosses her arms, and her tone turns bitter and biting. "Haul your ass over here _now! _Or I'll ditch you and you'll never get the information I have because I'll-"

"Shut up," Mello grumbles, and he begins dragging her by the collar of her vest as he stalks by her. "You've pulled that card _twice_ now, and it's already getting old. We both know you won't leave me."

The girl rolls her eyes, slowly prying his fingers from her, or at least attempting to, because Mello's grip only tightens. "And you know this, how?" she asks, "It's not like I'm indebted to you or anything, and just because you want the mafia-"

"Shh!" he hisses, "We don't want anyone hearing this!"

"Mafia, mafia, _mafia.." _She sings loudly just to spite him. "Melly-belly wants to join the mafia! Oh, I hope _no one _hears me!" She settles on biting Mello in the arm, and he lets go in something crossed between shock and disgust. "Geez. It's three something in the morning and we're somewhere deserted half the time. Who's going to hear us?"

Mello shoots her a look. "I'm not risking it."

"What's life without the risk?" Hex returns lightly, and she skips, spinning on the toes of her boots, throwing her arms out to the sky as if someone were to carry her away to the heavens, and she pointedly ignores Mello's irritated scowl.

"Secure. Planned."

She shakes her head violently. "Wrong-o. It's _boring, _that's what it is."

Mello snorts, lowering his head and he pushes his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "Oh, really? Do elaborate."

Hex sways from side to side as, following some odd beat that only she can hear. "if you insist," she grins widely, and she bounces on the balls of her feet again. "You see, secure is all right.. when you're like _eighty._ You got to loosen up a little. Gutsier people die faster, but they got a hell lot more going for them."

She stifles a yawn. "Live life and die young."

"You think I'll die before thirty?" Mello questions, and he sounds more subdued, like he has something on his mind.

She shrugs, "L, Wedy, Aiber, you and me, I think you've noticed.. We're all a little different than the rest of the world. What we do doesn't really promise a long and happy life now, does it?" And she shivers when cold air rushes, weaving past them. "But who knows? People die anytime. Death happens all around."

"You sound like you accept yours already," Mello comments offhandedly.

"I have," Hex confirms. "It's not like I've got much to live for besides myself, anyway. In the end, there's either a grave or no grave, named or unnamed." She stops, and she looks up to the starless night with slight nostalgia in her eyes. "Don't be naïve. We're all faceless and nameless. Only nobodies."

Mello stares.

It's a while before she gathers her uppity mood again, but before she can speak, a warm jacket is gingerly thrown onto her shoulders. Hex blinks, and she looks see him already stalking away from her direction.

She smiles awkwardly, and follows after.

* * *

Hex is slumped on the uncomfortable sofa, her tired eyes tearing away from her laptop on its arm, to the boy currently dead asleep to the world on her bed –_her bed!- _and she scowled. Stupid Mello. How dare he take her bed just because she wasn't in it?! Another _completely reasonable _reason; he stinks six ways to Sunday, like he's been bunking somewhere near a trash receptacle, and now _he's stinking up her place too!_

Her fingertips stop their incessant beating on the keyboard, hovering above it as Hex stifles another yawn, and she lets herself listen to the small voice in her head telling her to just let the guy have his sleep, because by him not stirring from the plenty noise Hex made earlier, it's easy to tell that he'd not waking up any time soon.

And while she is being nice enough, Hex thinks, maybe she'll get him to have a shower, and maybe she'll get some new clothes on him. His are worn and frayed at the edges, and too large on him- not exactly the picture of an intimidating mafia guy, now is it?

She shakes her head, her index finger jabbing at a single key before the whirring sound of machines came in the opposite end of the hotel room. The fair-haired girl leans back into the seat, a smug grin threatening to wear itself on her lips. She feels accomplished to have completed forging and faking all the necessary documents and such. She can't wait to rub the fact that she's _downright dedicated _and _purely awesome_ in his face. Hex thinks Mello hadn't thought about anything but finding her until thirteen hours ago.

Well, she's here, so now what? Hex rarely ever _did _stay in one sitting for so long, and frankly, she's starting to feel more than a little uncomfortable. Her laptop tells her it is eleven thirty seven in the morning now, so Hex counts that she has gone three full days without sleep. Not that she is complaining, Hex hates sleeping.

It's like surrendering yourself to complete, utter darkness, and losing control of your own person. Then there are the occasions when she'd be given dreamless sleeps, but some nightmares, and she can't wake herself up sometimes. Hex thinks it's weakness, so as to subdue it, she avoids it. Nothing creepier than to lose consciousness willingly.

But as she looks at the soft expression Mello has on his face, like he's hinting at a smile, Hex wonders what it's like to dream something pleasant for once. It looks nice.

Hex berates herself for having such _inane_ thoughts (Hex is totally, _way, way _mature, like, seriously), and she forces herself to focus on the laptop screen. _Thirteen new e-mails, _the screen reads. She raises a brow curiously, because she knows only a handful of people who even knew her existence, much less something like her _e-mail, _so she shouldn't have this much in her inbox.

_Kid.  
I've been trying to get contact with you. We need to talk.  
Meet 2.5 miles away, thirty degrees southwest from your hotel in three days.  
Preferably 13 00 hours. Do not be late._

The newest addition to her inbox, from two days ago, makes her lips form a half-smirk. She closes her laptop, pulling out a lollipop from the back pocket of her shorts, and she thinks that maybe she should _really _start investing for winter wear.. or thermal underwear.. or not. Whatever, Hex disregards the cold almost entirely for the sake of lithe movement. Slowly, she peels herself off the stiff chair, sashaying her way out of the hotel room with a lazy smile.

* * *

TBC

_

* * *

A/N: More of a filler, I suppose. I'm just trying to get across how Hex's mind works- she's a bitch, isn't she? :D Well, hope it didn't suck too terribly. Next chapter's when they start off their expedition.. of sorts. I'm cackling maniacally. Hey, I'd like your opinion on this chapter, on Hex and all that stuff. I'd like to improve my writing. :) _

_And now, a preview of next chapter. These come with the feedback and reviews I get, ..now I mention it, _Thanks to kaaayyytteee (_Glad you approve!)_, overboard343 _(You like Hex! *Goes happy-dancing* And really, I hope she won't be mary-sue-ish and boring either)_ and The Black Rose 17 _(First reviewer! And thanks for liking Hex) _ for reviewing!

-

_Preview:  
_

She smirks, throwing the device casually in his direction and it fumbles in his hands. Mello looks at her with wide, confused and almost scared eyes. He copies Hex and molds his fingers into the curves, and the metal is cool to the touch. Smooth and silent, but still dangerous, even in its dormant state. After all, that could easily change with a twitch of his finger.

But Mello didn't want anything to do with it. It must've shown in his expression because Hex speaks with something akin to mild annoyance, while still sounding patient at the same time. "Relax, Mel, I'm not going to ask you to _shoot him."_ Her red tongue pokes out from the corner of her lips. "Shoot _me _instead."

"W-_what?!"_

-

Now review, you. :)


	3. Two

_A/N: My exams are stretching up to a full three weeks. Nope, not happy at all._

* * *

_-  
-----AdRenaline  
_U  
S  
h

_This is me standing in the arch of the door _  
_ hating that look that's on your face _  
_ that says there's another fool like me._  
_ There's one born every minute, there's one born every minute._  
_- Calm Before The Storm_, Fall Out Boy

_Chapter Two_

They are walking outside again, with each streetlight shining a yellow light down an eight foot radius of slick, or slightly snow-covered empty pavements. Mello hasn't been through these roads before, even in his frenzied chase for Hex almost throughout the entire New York City, and he knows this because here, it looks something like the slums, with old, gray buildings with poorly made graffiti staining them, and damp advertisement posters are haphazardly flying about.

Mello finds it all rather _cliché _that Hex has led him to a place like this, this sad looking _ghost town _that looks abandoned, because really, where _else _would a professional (or _would be _professional. Mello has that much confidence in her abilities, even if they're yet to be proven) thief go? The conspicuously inconspicuous nature of the area would just be overlooked because this sort of place would be the _first place _the police would think to look, and hence the _last _place they'd actually look, because they think 'thieves wouldn't hide somewhere so obvious'.

And this is why Mello thinks the police are so _stupid._

Why did L let the police work with him? They probably had just _messed every damn thing up _and caused his downfall. Now with someone else probably parading as L when he's _not, _it'd be _so easy _to manipulate everyone. This can easily explain why L's records are all gone- either someone wants to hide this from Kira, or someone wants to hide this because Kira is someone with the police.

He'll say it again; the police are so _stupid. _Placing their trust blindly just because they've got a badge. What do they show for? _Nothing at all. _They've got guns for nothing, and they've got brains to be wasted thinking they can trust one another when they _can't. _Not in a world like this. Not in a world like Mello's, where he'll take _nothing, no one _but the best and not trust the _law_, because this is another reason for L's downfall.

L must've placed so much trust in someone, someone he _shouldn't have. _Well, Mello won't make the same mistake. _Never._

"Don't scowl, Melly-bean, you'll go ugly," Hex's voice chimes beside him, and he turns his head to see her dancing to a non-existent beat yet again. She holds in her hand a particularly large red lollipop, and her tongue, slightly tinted the exact same shade, darts out to taste it again. "What's in your head?"

Mello shakes his head, trudging forward as if he knew where to go, but there is really only _forward, _and nowhere else. "Don't call me that. It's degrading."

"Don't tell me what to do," Hex returns lightly, taking large strides to again meet beside him again, frowning in discontent when she sees Mello stalk faster, as if to walk away from her, and in all truth, Mello is. Or at he's at least _trying_ to. It's times like this when he feels the need to be alone awhile, just so he can think. Can't Hex see that? She's not supposed to be an idiot, damn it.

She suddenly reminds him of himself in a memory, namely at the memory where he'd been punished for stealing from the kitchen pantry. Honestly, Mello thinks he should've just been punished for getting caught. Craning his neck, he eyes Hex again, saying exactly what Roger had said to him just to gauge her verbal reaction. "Respect your elders."

"I'll respect you when you_ deserve it."_ Her tone is still light as always, as if she never means anything she says, and this almost disturbs him. _Almost._ "You've been nothing but a demanding shithead all the while I've known you."

"Watch your language," Mello says in a warning tone, though his eyes glint in some kind of sadistic amusement. As if he's enjoying the torment at both their expense.

Hex grins, sticking out her tongue playfully and she saunters ahead of him, turning a left. "Don't tell me what to do." Mello smirks, following after her and ruffles her head of hair with his hand, just so he could bother her, and Mello knows he does. Hex is, after all, rather _sensitive _when it comes to her messy mop.

They stop a short while after before what looks to be an old guarded warehouse, complete with the barbed wire fence and the convenient hole leading to the inside somewhere in the corner. The windows, what Mello notices, are bolted shut with rusted locks and chains, and the door, he checks, is locked from the inside. He looks to Hex with narrowed eyes, thinking that this may have been a pointless journey.

But he realizes that Hex is paying him no mind, shrugging off her coat and letting it fall to the floor, exposing more of her oddly unfrozen skin and she swiftly pulls out what looks to be a mangled army knife (revamped, Mello assumes) and she keeps it in place in her mouth, discarding her lollipop carelessly somewhere.

Mello is oddly somewhat excited, because he knows that she's going to work on getting them inside somehow, and finally he'll get to catch a glimpse of her 'expertise', so had Matt called it back then. Which reminds him.. _How does Matt know Hex anyway? _He'll think about that later, because now, he's honestly curious.

Hex scales up the high wall like a cat, movements agile and quick, and when she reaches her goal, she keeps a single hand on the ledge of the horizontally wide, but otherwise narrow window, then retrieves the device from her mouth with her free hand, and finally starts picking at it. It isn't before long before she simply slides in.

When he hears a noise coming from behind the warehouse door, he grins, deciding that she's finally proven herself useful, although knowing that this is just minor and easy, compared to all he knows Aiber and Wedy capable of doing. And knowing what L's spoken of them, he'll be sure to expect more impressions from her.

So, she _isn't_ a waste of time, nor will she be a burden. Mello picks up her coat in a way of silently saying _thank you_, and then enters the warehouse confidently as the door creaks open, thinking that this will be just _excellent. _He'll use her to his full advantage. "So why are we here?"

"Ah, _finally," _Hex pouts, bouncing on the balls of her feet deeper into the warehouse, otherwise leaving the door open so some light would bleed through. "It took you a hell of a long time to ask me! Do you _know _how much I wanted to just spit it out?"

Mello raises a blond brow, but his orbs are surveying his new surroundings. Definitely, there hasn't been anyone here for too long, because there are cobwebs and layers of dust coating every inch he can see, and his shoes leaves wet imprints on the dirty floor. "Then why didn't you just say it?"

Hex snorts derisively, waving her hand as if to throw the idea away entirely. "Then what fun would that be?" She looks at him over her shoulder, lighter than platinum blonde locks flying around her in her quick motion. "What's the point in telling a secret if no one wants to know, hmm? Who wants to talk if there'd be no one listening?"

"Stop being so damn cryptic," Mello sighs in agitation, running his nearly numb fingers through his own hair, because it's growing too long and it's falling into his eyes. Enviously, he stares at Hex's back and how she keeps her hair falling past her own eyes, and it never seems to bother her. He rolls his eyes. _Pfft..Girls. _They are another thing no guy would ever fully understand, and he has no real intention to either. "So tell me already."

Hex's tone drops, and now sarcasm drips from her mouth. "_Gee, _let me think." She crosses her arms, a single hand cupping her chin in mock contemplation. "_Nope." _And she cackles, Mello likes to image her as a witch right here, and he's glaring at her, emptily, because she disregards him completely.

"You said you wanted to _spit it out," _Mello hisses, already too annoyed with her. "So why won't you?"

She shrugs carelessly, sending him a Cheshire cat-like grin before she spins a full one eighty, heading towards the door of the warehouse once again. "I said I wanted to, never said I was _going to." _She laughs gleefully as she passes him, easily dodging his open hand that had intentions to pull at her hair this time. "And _now, _the suspense is building! And _dun dun dunn!" _she vocalizes dramatic music, "The suspense'll claw at you and _kill _you, and then, and then-!"

The door of the warehouse opens wider, and Hex, if it had been possible, grins even wider. Her voice is quieter this time, no louder than a giddy sort of whisper, but it echoes in the empty warehouse. "The suspense is gone."

"You're insane," Mello comments dryly when he reaches her side, but otherwise keeps quiet when he sees the shadow of a large figure, obviously a guy (or a very big, masculine built woman) looming where the light shines inside. Hearing him, Hex stifles her giggles and jabs him in the ribs with her elbow sharply, apparently not caring whether he would've been hurt or not. Surprisingly, it stung.

He must be getting soft.

Mello chagrins, eyeing the silhouette suspiciously, and then his eyes widen when Hex takes off into a sprint, and then jumps into the suddenly open arms of the guy, and the man chuckles, voice deep and almost sultry, and Mello can hear the man whispering her name, sounding happy to see her.

"It's been too long, ain't it?" Hex asks openly, but the question is obviously rhetorical. The man's arm reaches out to the wall, feeling for something and Mello assumes it is the light switch, because the area is suddenly lit up brightly. "Mello? I'd like you to meet Aiber."

He blinks once, twice, and then dutifully steps forward, if only out of the habit all Wammy inhabitants had made, to greet someone _politely, _because it's the way things work there. Mello notices that Aiber is practically _oozing _charm, blond hair combed back neatly and it goes past the collar of his crisp suit, and he has the top two buttons of his undershirt left undone. He is tall and admittedly handsome, and he wears a charismatic sort of smile as he extends his hand. "Hello. Hex told me I'd be meeting you."

Mello accepts the hand awkwardly, until his etiquette practice kicks in. He returns a polite smile, one that wouldn't have appeared fake to anyone of lesser standards, but he was in the presence of _two _con-artists, so he assumes they see through him easily. "I can't say the same- Hex refused to tell me the reason why we'd be here."

Aiber chuckles and releases the hand, standing lax. "You'll be expecting more of that from her soon, if you don't stop that. You're a genius; you'll figure something out to stop her from being so difficult." He pats Mello's head; like he's a little boy, or a dog, and Mello thinks this is absolutely _humiliating. _"But I should tell you that you've misunderstood. I'm not the reason you're here."

"Then what is?" Mello asks.

The con-artist smiles, "You are a fickle thing, aren't you?" He looks past his shoulder to the outside of the warehouse, "You shouldn't make it a practice to follow through with everything without knowing what to prepare for." Then he steps aside, and as if on his cue, Hex appears a few seconds later, large bags on her back, and each hand holding a metal briefcase. Aiber smirks at Hex's silent cursing at how heavy the bags were, but does nothing to help her. "Before we start, you should be aware that you're the reason we're all here."

Mello's eyes narrow, and he shoots Hex a questioning glare, and she simply shrugs, and refocuses her attention to the briefcases, picking on their locks just as easy as she had done with the window. He stares at Aiber dubiously. "What _about_ me?"

"Mello," Hex begins with a sigh, because after a few moments of silence it became apparent that Aiber isn't going to answer. Either way, Mello is only happy she isn't going to call him _'Melly-bean' _when Aiber is present. That will be too humiliating. "You're _here, _with _me, _a _thief slash con-artist.. _Whatever! _And _you're planning for _me _to work with _you _so we'd get into the _mafia." _She emphasizes each word slowly and deliberately, as if talking to an incompetent _fool, _and Mello is only more annoyed. "You're practically signing a lifetime deal to the underworld. You might as well learn a few things before you suddenly _off yourself."_

Aiber frowns, "Be nice, Hex."

She sticks out her tongue, even at her _mentor! _Mello doesn't know what to make of this stupid, irrational, bitchy behavior, but it really is starting to get under his skin like nothing else. Other than Near, of course, but she comes a close second. "Don't tell me what to do."

"Don't mind her," Aiber tells Mello casually, "She must be deprived of her fix."

"Her medication?" Mello suggests teasingly, if only to see her reaction this time.

He is disappointed. Hex only waves her hand at them dismissively, and steps aside as Aiber makes to stand before the brief case. Mello can only watch in all curiosity at what's so _damn interesting about the case, _when Aiber pulls out a gun, and then tosses it into Hex's hand and she catches it easily. "Why this one?" she asks Aiber, making a face at it in distaste.

"You'll be demonstrating to Mello, Hex, and this will be his first time," Aiber explains, dusting at a rubber tire on the floor with his hand, and he sits on it and works the kinks in his neck. "You _know_ I don't particularly like guns."

Hex sniffs in disdain, toying the device in her palm as if it were a plaything. "Whatever. I'm better at sharpshooting than _you _are anyway." She looks at Aiber expectantly, and they have something of a staring match before Aiber relents, standing once again, and he retrieves a vest, oddly looking like a target board before he wears it on.

Mello watches carefully, fixedly, absorbing everything Hex does, because he is an _avid _learner, and he _will _master this, damn it. And besides, he can't imagine _Near _doing anything like this! Something he'll know better than the sheep! Hah! Mello feels as if he'd won this round.

She opens the cartridge of the gun, and quickly pulls for a full one from the case, and she jams it in place inside the handgrip. "This, Mello, is a semi automatic," she drawls out, as if reciting the words someone had said to her. She probably is. "So you'd have to replace, then load it each time this thing here," she points to the cartridge, "Goes empty."

"And," Hex continues, raising the gun slowly and backing off a safe distance of thirty feet, keeping her voice loud enough so he'd hear, not that it matters. The warehouse echoes. "This is kind of nifty, and not to mention convenient 'cause it's compact, so you can hide it wherever you want."

Aiming, she grins. "You hold it like _this. _I'll show you again later if I feel like it." She adds the last sentence with a sly glance in his direction, ignoring Aiber's warning tone, telling her to behave herself. "But for _now, _I'm going to go shoot the _shit_ out of Aiber, and you _better_ tell me what I'll damage. Like an anatomy lesson."

Mello's eyes narrow at her blatant demand, but keeps himself in check. She's _teaching _something that both she and Aiber thinks will be _useful, _so he can't miss _anything. _He doesn't think Hex kind enough to teach him a second time either.

"Ready, Aiber?" Hex asks, pulling her hair over her right ear, and then shoots. Mello cringes at the loud 'bang', but by the time he opens his eyes, all he can hear is the hollow ringing of the barrel of the gun. He swiftly turns his head to Aiber and stares at the vest, and the bullet embedded in it. Aiber remains unaffected, as if he'd fallen victim to being target practice too many times before. "Uh, liver?"

"What do you mean, '_uh, liver?' _ You're supposed to be fucking _confident _about what you're doing!" she glares at him, and then smiles sweetly. "But you're right."

She shoots again, and this time, Mello answers without hesitating. "Right lung."

And once more. "The heart."

Hex cackles excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she beckons Mello forward with her index finger. "Guess what, Mello?" She gives him a closed eyed, toothy grin. "I'm starting to actually like you."

"Yeah?" Mello challenges. "I've yet to like _you."_

"You think I give a damn?" she replies. "You're entitled to your own opinion of me, anyway." She smirks, throwing the device casually in his direction and it fumbles in his hands. Mello looks at her with wide, confused and almost scared eyes. He copies Hex and molds his fingers into the curves, and the metal is cool to the touch. Smooth and silent, but still dangerous, even in its dormant state. After all, that could easily change with a twitch of his finger.

But Mello still didn't want anything to do with it. It must've shown in his expression because Hex speaks with something akin to mild annoyance, while sounding patient at the same time. "Relax, Mel, I'm not going to ask you to _shoot him," _her red tongue pokes out from the corner of her lips. "Shoot me instead."

"W-_what?"_

Watching, and performing are two completely different things. He thought he could do this. He thought this will be as easy as almost everything else. Now? He thinks not.

"You heard me," she rolls her eyes.

Mello stares at her with wild eyes, wondering if she is actually, _sane. _"Are you suicidal?"

"Nope," she answers lightly, and steps backwards again to allow more range for him. "Life, death- it doesn't matter to me. Just don't shoot at Aiber without practice- you might kill him."

"I don't see your logic, Hex," Mello hisses out, and he's inwardly wondering why the _hell _Aiber isn't saying anything to stop Hex, or their bickering, or damn it, _everything! _He looks as if he's _enjoying _their argument, the bastard. "How is the idea of accidentally killing you better than killing Aiber?"

"Unlike you," she speaks lowly, as if threatening him to say otherwise. "I actually _value _his life more than I value my own. Now, shoot me. I _know _what I'm doing."

"B-but!"

"_Shoot!"_

A bang echoes in the warehouse. As if it burns him, he immediately lets go of the weapon. Mello stares, eyes wide in horror, as Hex's body falls backwards onto the dusty floor.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

_Breathe!_

"_Why are you just sitting there?" _is the first coherent sentence Mello forms, but all Aiber does is stare at Hex's form, unimpressed, but amused, and he adjusts himself on the tire, pulling out his own handhold and he shoots at her. Once. Twice. Thrice.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Mello yells out, pulling at his hair because _damn it, _this _isn't supposed _to happen! "Wha-" He stops, breathing heavily and uncontrollably, like, _inhale, inhale, _then _exhale_ because Hex is slowly rising from the floor, wiping off the debris that managed to collect on her. "You fucking _moron! _I thought you were _dead! _And I'd _killed you! _Shit!" He raises his fist and drives it into the nearest wall.

Hex is looking wild, with her hair a mess it looks almost windswept, and her cheeks are flushed a healthy shade of red, her expression of unadulterated bliss and she is grinning stupidly. "_Again." _She stands with her shoulders limp, but otherwise looking ready as she repeats her words. "Do that _again."_

That idiot.

* * *

There is light peeking through the window, and the air is warmer, not by much but still warmer, than the night chill. It's at the break of dawn and in the warehouse, and Mello thinks he's developed a new interest for guns. He puts the semi automatic back in the padded interior of the metal briefcase, feeling slightly out of place without it, but that could just be him being melodramatic.

He glances over his shoulder and sighs impatiently at how Hex is quietly conversing with her mentor, and this time, she seems _serious, _and he can't help but think how much it contrasts to her usual characteristic high. Like the show she'd done earlier, right after he _shot _her.

Mello supposes he should've been a little less… _vulgar _and more reasonable. He _knows _that her fix is _adrenaline, _and he'd been taking that privilege from her from days on end, only because of how much she's preparing for them who knows _what. _All he knows is from her words, "I almost have all we need."

Then, what _do _they need?

He banishes all thoughts out of his mind for the moment, and tries to sharpen his hearing so he could at least eavesdrop in what they are saying, because Mello does _not _favor secrecy. Especially when he thinks it's necessary for him to _know, _and damn it if Hex isn't his business now.

".. back to Paris, I guess?" Hex asks quietly, though it sounded more of a statement.

There is a pause. Mello thinks that Aiber is nodding before he replies, "I haven't seen my family in almost a year now, Hex. Yes, I am."

"This is it, then?" Hex's voice is more subdued now, "Kira's got Wedy.. There's a big chance he'll get you too."

"I know," Aiber replies, sounding somber. "And that's why I have to go while I still can."

"Hey," she murmurs, as if the words feel wrong slipping out of her tongue. "I'm sorry."

Aiber chuckles, "Don't apologize. You're like my own kid. I don't mind spending time with you." Another pause, Mello isn't sure what happens then. "And cheer up; I'm handing down my role to you now. I think I'll retire." He clears his throat and his voice is lower. "At least you've got company this time."

"Yeah," Hex agrees, maybe suddenly reminded that Mello is still here. "And I think I'll be happy; we're getting the mafia."

"I've got a lead for you. You'll find them in Los Angeles. Look for Rod Loss," her mentor's reply comes. "Here," there is the sound of unfolding paper. "Those are tickets, and some contacts you'll find useful."

* * *

TBC

* * *

_A/N: Hey, I'm not too happy with this chapter. So this one's not a filler, and Mello isn't some prodigal genius sharpshooter, and he must've learned _somewhere_. Any opinions on this chapter? On Mello and Hex's somewhat developed 'friendship', Hex and Aiber's bond, the works. I'd like to know.. :) I'm all for improvements._

_Next chapter's preview is up! Coming with the feedback I get, and speaking of which, thanks to _iHiatus _(thank you!) _Sensible One _(It's alright. :) And hey, thanks for liking the prologue. I think the portrayal of him in this chapter is a little crappy though, I hope I didn't disappoint you.. And I bring you _Aiber! _Thanks again for liking Hex! And still hoping you do now..)and _C. Holywell-Black _(Thanks for liking the story! And my style of writing haha, I didn't think I'd get that for writing in third person .. I hope that Hex is still believable in this- I think she came out all wrong..) _for reviewing!

_Preview:_

It's something of instinct, that he _needs _to, because he's starting to wonder if Hex will actually help him beat Near. So far, she's done nothing but disregard his opinions entirely, keep secrets from him, and she tells him _nothing._ There are so many things that can go wrong, and he grudgingly admits this. Like how Hex _might _be already working with Near, or what if _she _were in contact with Kira? Or… Mello shakes his head, wanting to banish all thoughts of Hex betraying him for a while. It's nothing but paranoia.

.. But he really is curious; _who_ does she meet when she's gone? _Who_ does she talk to almost every night? Who's sending her those damned _e-mails_? _Why_ won't she tell him anything?

"I've got to hang up now," Hex's voice is hushed and hurried as she whispers into her cell phone. "I think Mello's here."

Not as exciting.. Or _is it? _Now review, you. :)


	4. Three

_Summer is so close I can almost taste it.

* * *

_

_-  
-Ad__R__enaline  
_U  
S  
h

_What could I say?  
It all seemed to make sense.  
I try to see the good in life,  
But good things in life are hard to find.  
We'll blow it away, blow it away..  
- (excerpts of) _It's not over, _Chris Daughtry_

_Chapter Three_

Hex fidgets in her seat, twisting and turning without so much hope for a comfortable position, and she pointedly ignores the disgruntled look a random guy sends her. What a goddamn no good busy-body, she rolls her eyes, leaning back into the seat when she's decided she'll have to do nothing for now. _Nothing. _How dreadfully boring.

Outside, cars are in line, honking, moving slowly as is expected during this rush hour. Hex directs her gaze higher to the endless spread of colors in varying shades of red, and the poofy pinkness akin to cotton candy, and she wonders why she hadn't tried skydiving before. She can almost imagine the air in her face when she falls from somewhere too high- it would be downright _awesome._

When she hears someone clear his throat politely, but _unnecessarily, _Hex thinks, she fixes a seemingly innocent smile at the stranger standing before her, no matter how much she wants to just _strangle _the prick's little neck so bad.

It's wrong, but she's never really cared for things like that. It's just _Mello's _fault she can't, the asshole. The _guiltless little girl _act is clawing up her hide something just _awful, _but Mello's insisted on it. Something about big-headed albinos and eyes everywhere on a sheep, _whatever. _She doesn't look much into it. It's not important, and either way, it's not like she pays attention to every itsy bitsy little detail anyway, that's all a waste of time.

"Yes?" she asks lightly, blinking as she cocks her head aside in 'confusion'. This smiley guy –Hex thinks he's a potential _child molester- _looks a little too friendly. Maybe in his late-thirties or so, and he's been constantly bothering her and asking questions (Not that _she answered, _or anything). _Geez. _Like this guy has no life or something, or maybe he's just stupid.

"You sure you're okay here? You look a little uncomfortable," Hex finds this amusing, knowing enough from conning that he's _trying _to charm her, and failing. _Epically. _And damn it, any sane person would be uncomfortable too, if some random dude's got his _face _less than a foot away from their own. "It's not right for you to be alone here, princess."

As _politely _as she possibly could, she answers, "Yeah, some people have the nerve to just bother me, you know? They don't know when to quit, even when it's _obvious I want to be left alone._" Take the hint.

What an idiot. "I understand completely that you're feeling scared right now," he counters, and this time Hex's eyes narrow. She can take the annoyances, the bothering -_no problem!-,_ but she does _not _want to be taken for a _coward. _No matter how much it didn't mean anything, he _implied _it, damn it! "I would be too if I was here alone at your age."

"Leave. Me. _Alone," _she seethes, inwardly counting to ten like that book on anger management tells her to. It's not working; she feels as if every count closer to ten is every second closer to just blowing up. She doesn't need reasons for what she does, she just does it. No questions asked. Why the hell did Mello have to ask why she's so damn bitchy anyway? It's not like _she _knows.

"I'll keep you company, okay?" he continues, "There's nothing to be scared of, sugar.. Hey, what's your name?"

Her right hand balls up into a tight fist, and she's already raising it up slowly when she sees Mello stalking down the walkway of the shuttle. In pure agitation, she lets her arm drop lifelessly to her side, and there she plasters another cutesy grin. "Go away." She gives him a not-so-gentle push to make up for not punching him, "Bye-bye."

She sighs, letting the back of her head rest against the seats, smelling of pine and nicotine. Lazily, she watches as Mello's display, and thinks of how much he's drawing attention, contradicting his words for being inconspicuous. But seriously, how could two random kids with violent tendencies be inconspicuous, left unsupervised, parentless and apparently _nameless? _

Mello shoots her potential molester a dark glare, knocking him with his shoulder in a completely non-accidental way when the guy looks back at her. Then, she can easily hear Mello's words of "What the hell is your problem?" and "Don't bother us, asshole!"

Inconspicuous. Yeah, _right._

"Hey!" she hears Mello call out to her, so she cranes her neck in acknowledgment, raising a brow in question. This time she notices that he's already shouldering their single duffel bag, and he cocks his head to the doors. "We're heading out." When she doesn't make a move, he deadpans, _"Now."_

She's weighing the pros and cons of listening to him, and she decides that waiting in the stuffy and funny smelling shuttle wouldn't be worth waiting for Mello's usual tantrum. She makes her way to pass him, to lead him out like he wants to, because she knows he doesn't know Los Angeles like she does. He's probably never even been here, being a pampered Wammy kid and all.

They exit the vehicle after paying their cheap fine, and Hex smirks when she hears Mello muttering incoherently. "Welcome to L.A. Say, Melly-bean," she begins, "What did no one do to you _now? _You look as if you're about to throw a little hissy fit."

"Be nice," he tells her, "And shut up."

Like _hell _Hex will listen to him. "I don't want to," she sticks her tongue out at him, as per usual, and then rudely, she unzips the duffel bag while still on his arm, sticking her arm inside to feel for whatever she packed, pulling Mello back to her as he tries to escape her hold. She retrieves a leather wallet and a single bar of chocolate, the latter quickly being pulled from her fingers, and Mello bites into the candy with a flourish.

"Spit that out," Hex orders, eyes narrowed. "It's _mine."_ Hex scowls and stretches her hand to retrieve it, only Mello keeps it from her reach. "Oh _sure," _Hex says dryly, "_Real _mature, Mello."

He shakes his head, and Hex sees him staring from where he's bitten with an odd fixation, like he's thinking too hard on a matter. He looks up suddenly, and studies her. "You look unsightly."

"_Thanks,_" she drawls out sarcastically, "That's just about what _every _girl on this damn planet needs to hear. What the hell are you talking about? I'm _sexy._"

Mello shrugs, unimpressed, taking another bite out of the candy again. "I don't want you to slow us down. Rent an apartment or something, and get some sleep, will you?"

"You _care about me!" _Hex scrunches up her nose, and she jokingly winks, blowing him a kiss. "Aw, Melly-bean, I'm touched and all but-"

"Shut up," he grumbles, stalking forward like he always does when he's annoyed with her, or by her. It's all the same to Hex, so whatever. "I don't want to hear your shit."

Hex narrows her eyes at him and stops at her tracks, crossing her arms and pouting. She hardly cares she's being _immature _here, because _damn it, _Mello's being a complete asshole to her. And for no reason! "What the hell is your problem, anyway?"

"My problem?" he asks, but his tone is obviously rhetorical. He turns and stalks back to her angrily, towering over her easily, and hardly caring that she's not _intimidated _in the least. "You're the problem. My _problem _is that we're trying to catch a goddamn _mass murderer _and you don't give a fuck_! _You're too busy messing around for no _reason! _My _problem _is that you're a cold-hearted, selfish _bitch-"_

Hex stretches high, standing on her toes and she pushes him back with her open palms. She plasters another Cheshire-cat sort of grin, and she would've looked happier had her eyes not been blazing like they are. "Enough, okay?" her tone is too light, it almost sounds whimsical. "Stop."

As she takes a step back and glares at him, the bruises surrounding her eyes are more pronounced. "You don't get it, do you?" she questions, shaking her head slowly like she pities him or something. "You're not at Wammy's anymore; you don't wake up in clean pajamas and have breakfast waiting for you. You don't tuck in early in a bed and think 'Everything's okay, and I'm safe', nor do you just get a _time-out _for being bad_."_

Mello is quiet, and she continues quietly. "You're not a kid anymore. You haven't been since you _left _that place, and you're not safe, understand?" Hex smiles, but it is gone as soon as it came. "The world isn't the same as Wammy's. You gave up _everything, _and you got to get it in your head that nothing is the _same." _

"I'm _cold-hearted, _but you're _soft. _I'm _selfish, _but you're _spoiled_. I don't give a fuck, but you're just.. so.. _naïve." _Hex sighs and turns on her heel away from Mello, "Wake up, Mello, it's about time you smell the coffee." She begins walking, actually _walking _this time, but she is taking her steps slowly.

"Where are you going?" she hears Mello ask, and he sounds unsure but rushed, like he needs to know.

Hex shrugs, and the grin she wears can fool anyone, but she knows she isn't happy. "_We, _Melly-bean. We're on our way, and we're going to get there. You coming, right?" She didn't need an answer. Beside her, a half-smile is gracing Mello's lips.

* * *

She pulls him into the less-than-modest shop in the discreet corner, and the overhead bell jingles to alert the employee of their entry. Mello lets his eyes wander to his newer surroundings with a mixture of curiosity and piqued interest, because in glass walls and windows, under the poor lighting that gives away the stereotypical black market will be an artillery of weapons, and they glint and glimmer at him tauntingly, polished and clean.

Just calling at him.

"You fellers ain't the usual people 'ere," some random, sleazy looking character chuckles. His voice is wheezy and rough, teeth yellow and eyes tired, maybe from _years _of smoking, but he couldn't have looked more than forty. "You lost?"

Mello ignores him, choosing to eye the newer models of guns on display with wide eyes.

"_You're just so.. naïve." _She's called him. _"Wake up, Mello."_

This time, he thinks he understands. He'll take this as a lesson of some sort- Mello's always been a good student, eager to please and ready to bring to the table, but he isn't sure what Hex wants from him now.. other than a change of attitude. To get rid of the spoiled demeanor he's molded just _because _he's a Wammy kid.

Mello isn't an idiot. He knows he's not even an amateur here, because he has no prior experience to anything other than to excel in what he does to _be _L, but (grudgingly, he admits) he's not even close to that goal yet. Fucking _Near. _Mello knows what he's doing, and where he's going. He _needs _the mafia, damn it. He _needs this. _He _needs _to beat Near.

He glances at Hex to see her muttering into her cell phone some twenty feet away from him.

It's something of instinct, that he _needs _to, but he's starting to wonder if Hex will actually help him beat Near. So far, she's done nothing but disregard his opinions entirely, keep secrets from him, and she tells him _nothing._ There are so many things that can go wrong, and he grudgingly admits this. Like how Hex _might _be already working with Near, or what if _she _were in contact with Kira? Or… Mello shakes his head, wanting to banish all thoughts of Hex betraying him for a while. It's nothing but paranoia.

.. But he really is curious; _who_ does she meet when she's gone? _Who_ does she talk to almost every night? Who's sending her those damned _e-mails_? _Why_ won't she tell him anything?

"I've got to hang up now," Hex's voice is hushed and hurried as she whispers into her cell phone. "I think Mello's here."

"Yeah," Mello drawls in a deadpan tone. "But haven't I been here all the while? And who were you talking to?"

"No one you'd find important. We'll talk later," Hex grumbles, rolling her eyes and pocketing her phone. "So, see anything you like?"

The sleazy guy at the cashier snickers, "You _betcha _I do, babe."

He listens to Hex speak, and he notices that she sounds more menacing than the usual perky. He resists rolling his eyes, knowing that this is most likely to intimidate the man, or to convince the guy that they're here on serious business. Either way, he knows her enough to know she's taking personal amusement in the simple conversation. "You're not getting any, asshole. Now get your ass here; we're buying."

"She a feisty 'un, eh?" the man leers at Mello, waggling his brows suggestively. Mello scoffs, because _clearly, _he is _way _above the man. He does _not _need to lower himself to his level.

Hex raises a brow, obviously unimpressed by the man, and she speaks again, but her voice is firmer. "Don't test us," she pulls out the gun she'd nicked from a policeman the morning earlier, and it _clicks, _ready to be used. "I told you. We'd like to _buy." _

"Hah," the man snorts derisively, but he still watches her with undisguised precaution, Mello notices, like Hex will _really _shoot the man if he doesn't follow throw with what she wants. Mello doesn't want to know if she really _will, _even if a larger part of him agrees entirely. "You've gotta lotta guts, babe. But t'yer guy's kinda quiet now, ain't he?"

"Leave me alone," Mello mutters. "If you know what's good for you, do as we say."

He takes the fact that Hex looks at him somewhat approvingly. The man slowly stands from his seat, and places both open palms onto the counter, balancing his weigh on them. "Can I get a name 'ere?"

"It's _Wedy," _Hex answers confidently.

Mello discerns that the man suddenly looks a little more serious, standing straight and he appears before them both quickly, looking slightly shaken. "Sorry, _sorry, ma'am! _Boss Mack told me you'd be comin' an' all, but I just thought you'd be a 'lil older an-" Mello clears his throat in agitation.

"We're short on time," Mello sneers, crossing his arms together and cocking his hip one side, the perfect stance of defiance he'd seen gangsters do on the television. If he'll take a change of attitude, Mello thinks, then he'll learn on the job.

"Ah, I'm _sorry, _sir," the man nods quickly, and he proceeds to the glass cabinets holding the weapons. "What's the occasion?"

Mello looks at Hex, confused. Hex smirks and sends him a '_Don't ask' _look. "No occasion- I need two of whatever that works. What've you got?"

The man pulls one out from its place, holding it higher so they'd see. "This 'un? It's an M134 762."

"Something _smaller," _Mello replies. "Maybe a semi-automatic pistol?"

Hex snorts. "_Of course _you'd want that one." She redirects her attention to the man again. "And pull out a compact automatic. And a flare gun, if you still have 'em."

The employee returns from their back room after no more than two minutes, carrying metal briefcases similar to the one's Mello had seen Aiber with. He approaches the counter with long strides, unbuckling the case easily and he picks up the weapon with an almost manic sort of grin. "We'll take it."

* * *

TBC

* * *

_A/N: So, uh how was it? I think I've butchered Mello's personality. _T_T _Any comments or opinions? By the way, a special thanks to _C. Holywell-Black_ (haha, that was one of the funner parts to write. :) You noticed the hint of compassion I was giving him! :D) and _Overboard343 _(I'm thinking Hex is a bad influence on him ahaha. :) Mello and Hex actually _are _getting along, eh? And thanks for approving of Aiber's appearance and stuff.)_

_The preview I've got for you's a little short, 'cause I'm still kinda in the process of making the next chapter.._

_Preview:_

"Hex, you fucking moron." Mello hisses, and his eyes are narrowed to slits, fists clenching and unclenching as he bites his tongue to keep from yelling out. "Shit.. Are you okay?" That is the best he can start with, and he isn't sure what to do here- because _sure _he's read about these things happening in _books, _but reality is just... so.. _real, _and he's starting to get a little (he won't admit this aloud) _panicky._

Hex either hasn't noticed his acts, or she's chosen to ignore it completely._ "_It's just pain, asshole. No big beal," she replies in a chipper tone, but a short silence follows her words. Then, she growls out, "Of course I'm _not okay, _you dumbass! I'm _bleeding _and it's _all your fault!"  
_


	5. Four

_-AdRenaline  
_U  
S  
h

_So all you fill the streets, it's appealing to see _  
_ You won't get out the county, 'cause you're bad and free _  
_ You've got a new horizon, it's ephemeral style_  
_ A melancholy town where we never smile  
- Feel Good Inc., _The Gorillaz

_Chapter Four  
_

With fingers combing his wet blond hair, Mello exits the bathroom expecting dinner waiting for him, and he is only sorely disappointed. But that is only the least of his concerns. The second thing he notices is that Hex is missing.

Of course he notices. Her figure stands out like a sore thumb when contrasting with the yellowish wallpaper of the room, and this feature is _missing! _He almost starts scanning each corner of the motel room when he notices the piece of yellow padded paper stuck to the front of his shirt. Reading the loopy, narrow and messy scrawl, his eyes narrow. '_Back later. Don't look for me.'_

Mello does _not have time for this, _but he never has been one to back down from something like _this. _It might've been purely unintentional, but he's taking this as a _challenge. _And it's just like him never to back down from one. It's in his nature, always was, and always will he crumples the paper in his fist and rummages in the drawer of the tiny table to retrieve his locator, only to find it in pieces. On what was left of the screen, there is another note. '_I said not to look for me.'_

This time he lets out an animalistic sort of growl in his throat, gritting his teeth together to stop himself from screaming, because that would be irrational, and Mello is definitely _not. _He is trained to think rationally, and so he _will. _Or at least, that what he keeps telling himself, because now he's fighting the increasing temptation to just drive his fists in the wall in frustration, repeatedly.

"One..Two.. Three.." he begins counting, inwardly feeling very much like an idiot to resort to Hex's book he'd found on anger management yesterday. "Four.. Five.." It isn't working. He exhales deeply, rubbing his temples with a pronounced scowl.

He eyes the laptop in the corner, displaying a disturbing dancing rainbow lollipop as a screen-saver and he bites his lip, pressing over a random key, and the screen goes dark, requesting the user's password. Unable to take it anymore, Mello mutters a long string of curses, pulling out his cell-phone and dials a familiar number. It rings twice, thrice before it picks up, and he grits out, "_Matt!_ Locate Hex. _Now._"

* * *

A hundred miles away, Hex nuzzles closer into the much larger, much muscular, much smellier and sweater arm of the buff man, inwardly wishing the elevator will only _elevate _freaking _faster _because she is starting to _suffocate _from the man's smell of alcohol, man _stank _and sex. Not only that, but she also just wants to just get it all over with already.

Because the man who is currently running his fingers down her side, but none too sensuously (and more with lust-filled intentions) is the current boss of a mafia group. Not as fear-striking nor is it with too high a reputation like Hex would wish, but his blood spilt is enough for her and Mello to get closer to their goal.

In her opinion, this is a rather _stupid _plan of hers, maybe one of the most stupid _yet. _Hex knows she could just do this in so many other ways, but when this guy suddenly showed… _interest.. _in her- Hex just feels cornered into this. But downstairs will be the boss's men, and she just doesn't want to deal with them _all _with just one gun- it'll be _suicide- _and she swears it was a damn good idea to leave her gun back with Mello, since she's been given a very thorough body search by some underling a while ago.

So she supposes she just might spare the boss.

No, not really. _Okay, _not at all; she wants him dead (and she doesn't normally wish death upon anyone). But in Hex's opinion, murdering just _one _man when he least expects it, though _low, _even for _her, _is better than a massacre that just might result in her own demise. There are so many ways to kill him. She's already added the poison into his red wine, and it will only take a little less than twenty more minutes until it spreads entirely into his system.

A slow acting poison, but it's the best she's got.

All she has to do is keep him entertained, and she can finally make her move.

"Baby," the boss's voice is rough, almost hoarse when he breathes the scent of a random perfume on her neck, so her collarbone is exposed. He begins kissing her skin roughly, and while Hex feels a little too uncomfortable, and all she wants to do is just kill the fucker right _there, _she fakes a moan, quite unsure if she is doing this right. She must be, though, for him to respond with an approving growl. When the elevator door _'ding'_s open, he wastes no time in leading her into his quarters, slamming the door behind him.

"Strip," he orders her, already unbuckling his belt as he sits himself down stiffly on the large bed sheeted with red satin. She knows he is watching her unabashedly, and she can feel his eyes roaming her figure as she hesitantly reaches her hand to the string of the corset top, and she hopes that her actions looked to him to be deliberately slow.

"You're virginal act is fucking sexy," the large man says, and he looks amused by her antics. "But don't tease, baby."

Hex raises her head and twirls a stray lock of her brunette wig, and she would have bitten her lip had it not felt too weird being stained with gloss. D_amn it, _the poison isn't working as fast as she would have liked it to. How fucking _funny, _it must've been sad karma from being mean to Mello, that she's going to be punished like this.

She's gone all this way right now, and there's not going to be any turning back here. The worst case scenario she won't give a second thought for is that the poison wouldn't work at all, because that would just suck completely. She'll lose _everything, _if that happens. Her survival, her _virginity, _and she'll be some sort of faceless slut to this dude until he decides to kill her.

But _no. _The poison _will _work. It absolutely _must. _She knows the dose to be enough to kill at least two men, but that's because she it had been the most potent thing she's possessed then. Well. If she makes out of this like she's planned, she's already got a little list of things to do, _starting _with buying more potent poison.. Like rat poison, and then she'll feed it to any fucking beefy mafia guy if they get in her way.

_Take that!_

Hex leaves the strings of her corset slightly undone when she makes her way to the bed, exaggerating the sway of her hips as she lies herself down, and she forces herself not to kick the guy where it _really _hurts. It's too tempting, and suddenly _too _tempting when he is on top of her, tongue lapping just above her breasts, and Hex stiffens when his hand leaves a trail down her side again, and they stop just at the band of her leather shorts.

But there is a loud _bang _from the door just as it opens. And then again, _twice, thrice, _and the mafia boss uses her body momentarily as a makeshift shield against the quick coming bullets, and then Hex falls to the floor like a doll, "Oof"-ing comically.

Angry, Hex dusts herself without much care for the intruder, because the gun still aims at the boss, and _only _at the boss. Then she notices _Mello._

_He _is holding the gun, _he _is shooting the fuck out of the pervert, _he _is here.

Hex's eyes narrow, and she tries to stand when she suddenly notices a sharp pain at her abdomen. She sees two gunshot wounds right there, and there is dark, wet and warm seeping out of it, staining her corset a deep burgundy. "_Well, fuck," _she curses casually, letting herself fall back to the floor so as to keep her strength, because she thinks her vision is slightly hazy, slowly darkening.

And she can't hear the gun firing anymore, but Mello is already beside her.

* * *

"Hex, you fucking moron." Mello hisses, and his eyes are narrowed to slits, fists clenching and unclenching as he bites his tongue to keep from yelling out. "Shit.. Are you okay?" That is the best he can start with, and he isn't sure what to do here- because _sure, _he's read about these things happening in _books, _but reality is just… so.. _real, _and he's starting to get a little (he won't admit this aloud) _panicky._

Hex either hasn't noticed his acts, or she's chosen to ignore it completely. "It's just pain, asshole. No big deal," she replies in a chipper tone, but a short silence follows her words. Then, she growls out, "Of course I'm _not okay,_ you dumbass! I'm_ bleeding _and it's _all your fault!"_

"What the _fuck? My _fault?" he snaps, pulling her up gently despite her protests, so she is laying –or rather, _thrashing _about- on the guy's bed. He bites his lower lip, too many pieces of information running through his mind as he tries to recall his first aid lessons. "I _saved _your little ass! Be _grateful, _Hex! He would've raped you, and then _kill you_!"

She shoots him a dark glare, thumping her fist on his head. Mello would've already beaten the crap out of her.. well, if she is in a lesser.. bloodier situation. He cusses, undoing the strings of her corset, clumsily, but his intentions are so she'll be allowed to breathe more freely. Thankfully, she doesn't question him, most likely already knowing, but she pulls the blanket from aside to cover her womanly attributes.. Not that Mello is looking, or anything.

It isn't the time to be ogling some girl's chest like a pathetic hormone-driven teenager! She's _still _bleeding!

"I _let _him, Melly-bean," she tells him seriously, staring off somewhere in the ceiling as he tears the material of his shirt into strips. Not the best for bandages, really, but they will do their part for now.

Mello questions, or rather, deadpans, "You don't _let _strangers touch you randomly, Hex, you're not some kind of slut. It's _rape, _and you know it." Thankfully, there aren't any exit wounds from his damage, so he starts probing around for the bullets in her, no matter how much he knows he _shouldn't. _Hospitals are too risky. "Why the hell did you do this?"

Hex only shakes her head, continuing to babble, and she disregards his question. Mello begins to assume that she does this to direct her mind away from the pain. "No- I poured some poison into his wine.. He would've died regardless of your actions." She bites her tongue when Mello finally pulls out one from the two bullets.. and then the second one. "You coming.. It was completely unnecessary. I could've done this _myself._"

"Just swallow your damn pride and _be grateful. _I _saved _your life," he tells her again, eyeing the bottle of whisky on the table two feet away, and he quickly takes it, pouring it onto the cloth as a sort of antiseptic, and then pressing it onto her wound. "Those guys downstairs were on their way up, you should know. I took 'em out."

"You _killed them?" _Hex groans in displeasure. "Damn it, there'll be more eviden-"

Mello cuts her off, shaking his head impatiently. "I'm _not _an idiot, Hex. They're _unconscious, _and _will _be for at least four more hours_. _A friend showed me how to create those kind of bombs.. Real useful." Tearing more cloth carefully, he begins wrapping it around her. "It's a damn good thing I found you when I did."

"I _told _you not to come," she whispers feebly, quietly, her eyelids fluttering shut.

"You would've died," Mello tells her, and in a more subdued manner, but she already knows this. He's unexpectedly stopped his furious cleaning of her wounds, taking on a slower, a gentler pace. "I couldn't let that happen."

"Hm.." Hex cracks her eyes open slightly, a small smile –an _actual _smile, this time, not a smirk nor a grin- is on her lips. "…Mello?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He directs his gaze to meet hers again, she's already looking away, cheeks slightly flushing in embarrassment. She pulls off the wig, letting her much lighter tresses fan around her head, and her smile is already gone. He clears his throat quietly, eyeing the body of the man he's shot.

Mello doesn't understand. He's thought he would've felt a little more guilt than this. All he feels is the familiar loathing, and he is slightly colder now. He supposes he feels this way, this _non-guilt, _because he's done this for the good. Only for the good, because Mello will never truly be a murderer.

He _swears_ it.

"Hex?" He calls her, and he gets a hum in response. "What do we do with the guy's body?"

"We'll get rid of it, obviously, along with the evidence. Then, the _fun _part, Melly-bean," she jokes humorlessly, letting her empty giggling fill the thick air. "Did you know that this is the guy that Rod Loss has been wanting dead? This dude was practically _gloating _about it," she pauses, taking a breath, then two. "Precisely, his words were "Loss wants my _head_".. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"I'm _not _beheading a man," Mello says almost immediately, clearly reading her intention, a grimace on his face as his tone takes one of an almost whine. "That's _sick."_

Hex laughs again, breathier from blood loss and tiredness. "Sick, maybe, but it's definitely going to get Loss impressed." As if feeling Mello's disgusted stare, she shrugs, "I'm just saying.. We'll probably even get to the higher rankings quick too."

"I'm _not _beheading a man!" He repeats angrily, pulling back from his hovering over her, to sit still, eyes still trained on the body. "I might give a fuck about the rankings, _Hex, _but I have a sense of _morality_ and this is _shit."_

"I have morals _too, _fucker.. But, this is going nowhere," she says lightly. "… _We'll_ do it, then. How's that?" And Mello might have imagined it, but he thinks he saw a glimmer of approval in her eyes at his unwillingness.

* * *

Mello groans, burrowing his head deeper into the uncomfortable arm of the couch while pressing a pillow over his head, trying to drown out the annoying beeping from _God knows where,_ only without much success. His blazing blue eyes force wide open, and he is all but ready to throw something at the source of the _infernal _racket when he Hex stumbles off the bed, _finally _conscious, and she rushes as fast as her drowsy state allows her to, and she asks, "How long had it been like that?"

"Hell if I know," Mello mutters and his voice is still thick from sleep, but his mind is working just _fine. _Balling his hand into a fist, he rubs the sleep out of his eyes, shuffling over to Hex's cursing self at the discreet corner of the room. He raises a blond brow skeptically at the display, because she is currently typing too fast at her blaring laptop, eyes narrowed as she places her focus on it _entirely. _"Hex.. What's up with it?"

The string of curses are still flowing out of her mouth like a river, but she only speaks after the laptop goes silent, and her voice, from what he can tell, is a fake tone of nonchalance. "Aiber's dead." But those words were the last he'd expected. He freezes in his tracks, suddenly remembering the day he'd been told that L,_ his fucking idol,_ was dead.

And he suddenly also remembers why he is here. Kira. L. _Near._

"Hex," he begins, stepping back slightly, because he does _not _want to remember _that,_ and that step makes him pretend he's rewinding time for a bit. Hex is running her hands through her hair, not in that languid way she always does- it looks as if she is tearing strands out, forcing herself to think. Mello doesn't really know what to say. Well, he _does, _but he isn't sure if Hex wants to hear it.

He doesn't even know why he particularly _cares _if she wants to hear it or not. Maybe, it has something to do with losing the last (from who Mello knows, anyway) person she's ever _cared _for, but if Hex says _shit _about not caring, Mello will know. Mello isn't really.. _gifted _at 'comforting' anyone, it's always been _Matt's _job, but he isn't here now, is he? So Mello tries anyway. "I'm sor-"

"Stop," Hex exhales, rubbing her temples furiously. "Let me think."

"I'm just.." He lets his words hang, because the message is clear _right there._

"I know. I _know," _she stresses it, "But it doesn't matter." Hex lowers her hands from her face, and now a smile, small and sad, wears itself on her features. "I thought I told you; people die _anytime. _It's not like I didn't expect it._"_

There is a silence, far too long for Mello's tastes. He backs up a few steps again until he reaches the foot of the bed, and he sinks down into it, all the while not taking his eyes of her. Her expression suddenly reminds him too much of what he might have looked like back then, and he thinks he can sense an oncoming storm brewing.

Mello is right, just for a while, but he _is right. _Hex becomes volatile here, grabbing the laptop and throwing it against the wall in the far end, but she while she isn't through with it, her wounds restrict her movement. Still, that single throw is enough to reduce it to an unrecognizable mess of glass, metal and other fragmented things, and when Hex gets herself on her feet again, she looks livid.

"_Stop it," _he tells her, just like Matt's told _him. _"That won't get you anywhere."

Hex shakes her head, but her eyes are sharper this time, he notices. "Might not," she hisses. "But at least I put this shitty thing to good use." She sighs, producing a lighter from her back pocket, and she sets it on fire.

He understands her intention entirely, that she wants to burn all evidence or useful information of her prior existence, because she's already inherited her higher titles. Mello thinks he is envious, because he _wants _to be L, and he isn't quite at his goal. Not _yet. _He knows it will happen in due time. Mello just lacks the patience.

"So.. What's the agenda?" he asks her, and he thinks she should be fucking _appreciative _that he's dropped the touchy subject on Aiber.

"We've still got a goal, don't we?" she rolls her eyes, and she's wearing a cattier smile. "We're gonna get Kira's _head _on a candy stick."

Mello laughs, a grin spreading across his face.

* * *

TBC

* * *

_A/N: Happy summer, everyone, it's got me in a chipper mood. :) Oh, and just so you know, I have _no idea _how to do anything involving first aid. What Mello did was just some random crafting I did, so now that I've ruled _that _out, please be nice about this chapter. And about Hex's _almost-rape _scene.. Well, I'll leave you to comment on that. _T_T

_But besides that, how was this chapter? Comments, constructive criticism, opinions and ideas- they're all welcome. :D A special thanks to _C. Holywell-Black _(I actually look forward to your reviews. :) Mello's not quite waking up yet, but he's stirring. I get that Hex's method was a little harsh.. but Hex really isn't the nicest of characters. . haha, thanks for pointing that out.), _Miss no Name _(If by serious, do you mean more character building and bloodshed? I'm going to be cryptic here and say 'They'll get there in due time'. Thanks for liking the writing style!) and _Overboard343_ (Awesome is an awesome word. :P Mello's getting more and more badass here, at least, in my opinion. Haha, Mafia!Mello will come in due time, since they're both in LA already.) for _reviewing! _Now here's another little preview.._

_Preview:_

"Why can't you do as I say? Just for _once_?" Hex hisses in his ear in agitation, "We _need_ this contact. Why can't you see that he'll prove to be an asset to our goals? Charging in there will be like _suicide, _and I don't wanna die until I'm _in the fucking mafia!_"

"_Hex," _he sighs, calling her name firmly, then tightening his hold as she struggles, and she stiffens suddenly, as if only noticing the contact. "Why look for some _guy _when when Loss is _right there? _I don't want anyone else involved with us, asset or _not._" He looks to her, forcing her to listen, "Do this _my _way, Hex."

"Give me _one _good reason to."

Mello smirks, already expecting her request. "What's life without the risk?"

* * *

_Now be a dear and review, please? I am shamelessly begging for some more recognition. D:_


	6. Five

_-  
-AdRenaline  
_U  
S  
h

_Am I more than you bargained for yet?  
I've been dying to tell you anything you want to hear  
'Cause that's just who I am this week.  
- Sugar we're goin' down, _Fall Out Boy

_Chapter Five_

Their apartment is somehow a little too dark for ten in the morning. The windows are kept shut, curtains drawn, and there isn't a single light in here, save for the television, displaying a commercial for shampoo, but it is otherwise on mute. The floor is scattered with wires extended, leading into her bedroom. Mello closes the front door behind him, and he faintly hears the whirring of the alarm system she's placed there, and he gives a small lopsided smile, vaguely amused at Hex's heightened paranoia.

He knows she has good intentions for the alarms and cameras she's had installed, her now being a wanted criminal and all, but he honestly thinks that she should loosen up, if only just _slightly,_ because he's getting a more than a little irritated at her newfound motivation. Like she's lost her reason to bother him constantly, like she has no time left to have pointless debates with him, like nothing else is important, like she absolutely _must _be taking those mantels now.

It grates at his last nerve.

Hex is too tense, too suspicious of the outside now. She behaves like.. a criminal.

But Mello knows she _is, _and that he soon _will _be. He's resorted to _this, _the exact fate that L never wished for his successors, there are too many consequences, and Mello is breaking the law. Going against _justice, _all L has _worked for. _He shakes the thought away, wanting to focus on the _now._

"-o_ negotiate,_" Hex scoffs, rolling her eyes in annoyance as she spins on the swivel chair, waving at him as he enters the bedroom. Mello raises a blond eyebrow, closing the door behind him almost soundlessly with his foot, and he sets the shopping bags that had dangled from his wrists on the floor lazily. "_Fix _the problem, then! It's not that hard to shake them off your ass!"

Hex is imitating the voice of an older woman's, her octaves lower and more sultry, more dangerous, and he recognizes this as her 'Wedy voice'. He breaks a piece of chocolate between his teeth, watching her in all curiosity. "It's the _FBI," _Hex hisses after too long a pause. "Not _God! _It's not fucking impossible to _hide _yourself from them!" Hex furrows her brow, sending the wall a scathing look, as if it is the reason for her misery here. "No, _you _listen. Either _you do it, _or I'll _hunt you down _personally." And she hangs up, leaning back into the chair, spinning it around in a faster motion.

"What was that all about?" Mello inquires, sauntering behind her, and he presses both his palms onto the arms of the chair, halting her movement immediately. "And who was that?"

Hex scoots slightly away from him, and turns to face him with a smirk on her face. "Curious little thing, aren't you?" she returns, taking her own voice this time. By his unimpressed stare, she sticks out her tongue, tinged blue with cotton candy and she answers, "There's this dude in the FBI called Ill Rat- I'm trying to get him to see my sense."

"What sense?" he teases, just for the sake of doing so, and he lets her smack him on his arm impatiently, the grin never faltering from his face. He waits for a fast retort, the sly and smart one that never comes.

"Pay _attention!" _she demands instead, pouting childishly, and she looks away, sinking back into the chair. "So this Rat-guy's on our side, and he's going to let some info _slip _for us whenever he can." She looks pleased, "I arranged us to meet some twenty miles east tomorrow night in a warehouse I've got secured."

"No," Mello immediately disagrees, and he takes to see her displeased expression, and she whips out from her seat, fair hair flying around her head like some sort of fan. Mello cocks his head aside and he elaborates, "Since you've been," he glances briefly at her bandaged abdomen, "Out of commission for this whole week, I've took it upon myself to hunt the mafia down _myself."_

She gives him a look, waving a single hand in the universal "_go on," _motion. "I found out that they rented out the entire of a club. _Tomorrow night," _he's added this, crossing his arms as if daring her to say otherwise. What he _didn't _add, however, is that this entire piece of information had been stumbled upon _purely _out of luck. Mello's got a pride, damn it. "I will _not _have this chance _slip, _Hex. I've been waiting too long."

Hex scowls, seething. "How is _four months _too long for you, mister _patience-is-a-virtue? _We've had chances before-"

"You mean to tell_ me," _Mello hisses, eyes narrowing at her suspiciously, "That we've had _plenty _chances had you _let _us go for them?"

"Ease up," she orders, pouting. "I've got good intentions for missing them out, asshole, and they've concerned _you. _Shall I elaborate?_" _She holds her hand up to his mouth to silence him, and Mello almost bites the limb when she starts counting off. "_One, _you couldn't even _deny _me ice-cream when you're supposed to be a stingy badass asshole. _Two, _you were afraid to _shoot me _when I _told you to. Three, _you can't take a fucking directive-"

"I. _get. It!" _Mello grits out, grabbing hold of her wrist and he pulls her hand away, yanking her forward, and Hex falls off the chair without so much of a sound, despite the fact that her wound is being given rough treatment. "But I don't see why we can't go _tonight! _I don't want to waste anymore fucking time than we already have!"

"Why can't you do as I say? Just for _once?_" Hex hisses in his ear in agitation. "We _need _this contact. Why can't you see that he'll prove to be an asset to our goals? Charging in there will be like _suicide, _and I don't wanna die until I'm _in the fucking mafia!"_

_"Hex," _he sighs, calling her name firmly, then tightening his hold as she struggles, and she stiffens suddenly, as if only noticing the contact. "Why look for some _guy _when Loss is _right there? _I don't want anyone else involved with us, asset or _not." _He looks to her, forcing her to listen, "Do this _my _way, Hex."

"Give me _one _good reason to."

Mello smirks, already expecting her request. "What's life without the risk?"

Hex snorts, shaking her head as she turns away from him, muttering a few particularly nasty things, because she knows he's won _this _round, or maybe she lets him, already edgy. She doesn't spare him a second look as she swings the other door –leaving it wide open- entering the tiny bathroom, and Mello thinks she must be on her period. Why _else _would she be so damn _intolerable?_

"What are you doing _now?" _he sounds as if he's almost _whining, _but Mello knows that he is _absolutely not. _Whining implies immaturity, and Mello is all but mature, in his opinion. He follows her inside at a much more relaxed pace, chucking the now empty chocolate wrapper and it falls into the waste bin by the sink directly. He takes to lean against the cool, blue-tiled walls as he watches her produce a first aid kit from the cabinet behind the mirror, and she is _still _ignoring him. "Come now, Hex. You're not throwing a tantrum, are you?"

She narrows her eyes at him, lifting her shirt slightly so she'd be able to undo the bandaging on her wounds easily. "I am _trying,"_ she seethes, "To keep myself from strangling you." Finally free of the wraps, she studies the wounds in the mirror, grimacing slightly in disgust. "I'll contact them for you- If I gain Loss's favor, we'll be meeting them when you want."

"You're being dramatic." Mello snorts at this, crossing his arms as he continues watching her unabashedly, because while he _is _a genius, he is _still _a normal, hormone-driven boy, and Hex, while stiff, doesn't look too worried about him being there. It didn't matter too much. They've got _bigger _plans to worry about, and _modesty _is irrelevant at this point of time. "We'll be in the mafia soon, Hex, we'll both get what we want. Why can't lighten the fuck up and relax? At least you see things my way now."

"I don't see how that's a good thing," she remarks dryly, a wry smirk on her lips. "You realize that you'll be complicating things a bit, don't you? I can't guarantee success, so if we fail, we lose _both _Ill Rat and Loss, and that'll suck." She pokes at her wound repeatedly, like show akin to childish thinking, and she appears satisfied that it no longer bleeds out to the touch as it did only nights before.

"We should at least make an attempt _now." _Mello's eyes are fixed on the trail of scars on her abdomen, like daggers and bullets alike have gone to her over and over, and they gleam like silver under the light, and he wonders why he didn't notice them before. Insensitively, Mello asks, "How'd you get them?"

She follows his gaze and her smirk falls, and she peers at them like she's only taken notice of them now. "Mentors have different methods of teaching," she answers. "While Aiber was more careful with me, Wedy liked me to learn on the job. Her method was most effective, methinks."

"That's fucking _brutal_ not effective," he comments, pushing himself away from the wall to study them more curiously. "You did everything by yourself, _for _yourself.. It's like Wedy taught you nothing at all."

"She's_ taught _me _well," _Hex's tone is clipped as she argues. "She's taught me to trust my instincts, how to survive." She glares at him from the vanity, a scowl set in place. "I've learned to keep moving, Mello. No matter _what.._ And she's taught me that_ injuries, _Mello?" she nudges harder on hers, as if to make a point. "They don't matter much- they're just a slight complication. The priority is to _always _get the job done."

"Now you're only being hypocritical here," he rolls his eyes, deciding to end the subject before she gets a little too touchy. "You've _implied _it in your own words, Hex. Complications don't make anything impossible, Hex, you _know _that." He pushes her fingers away from the wound impatiently, knowing that her constant prodding will not do much for a quicker healing. "So don't make poor excuses- nothing you say will change my mind."

"Yeah, yeah," Hex murmurs, glaring at some random tile like it offended her. She runs a hand through her hair, pouting suddenly. "That's what you say _now.." _She lets her words hang in the empty air, her voice quieting slowly as if she's only realized that Mello is closer now, towering over her like he always does, but she looks somehow, lost.

"That's what I'll keep saying," he tells her, voice softer. He stares at her, gaze unreadable, and he asks her again. "Why can't you lighten up? _Relax."_

That single right hand of his is still on her waist, not pressuring down, neither too light, but it is still _there _like a lingering presence that they are _both _too aware of_, _and she looks up to meet his eyes, her own wider now, then quietly, _curiously,_ Mello breathes out softly, lowering his head and his lips brush against hers, feather light and almost non-existent.

Too _suddenly._ Too randomly. Completely uncalled for.

Hex pushes him back, and they both pull away too fast; Mello letting his back hit against the cool wall again as he forces himself to look away, eyeing the slight stain on the tile flooring too intently to be natural. He can hear Hex knocking over a few bottles on the sink counter in haste, and then the tap runs, but the water rushes out far too loud in his ears for some reason, just _ringing_.

"What was that?" Hex asks then, her tone light, and Mello only hates that he can't tell her mood.

Mello's head snaps up, and just in time to see Hex splash water onto her face, her messy bangs wetting and matting her brow, and she keeps her head down to the sink, eyes shut tight. "Nothing," he says curtly, straightening, and he decides that he should leave the room. _Now. _He makes for the door. "Absolutely _nothing_."

And the door closes.

Just like that.

* * *

Mello melts into the threadbare couch, like he's been _made _to sit in it, and he massages his temple with one hand, the other holding his fix, and he stares at it intently. _Dark chocolate _now- the type that he only eats when he needs the energy, or when he needs to stay up for hours after midnight, for his studying or plotting against Near. He didn't succeed too much in the latter, but the candy still _does _serve its purpose. He needs to think now.

He takes a large bite, snapping the chocolate between his teeth before he allowed himself to chew. It tastes bitter and sharp in his mouth, and as he swallows, his throat goes parched. Mello grimaces, but continues to eat, and he thinks he might be a potential chocolate glutton in the near future. _Whatever. _The taste is alright enough, and the candy is cheap and all but _convenient._

When his eyes stray to the black coat she always wears, thrown carelessly over the arm of the loveseat he's on, Mello scowls, remembering what has happened, or what _didn't _happen. It is the same difference. Mello isn't an idiot; he knows he is attracted to Hex, at least just _physically, _because he isn't a fool to deny that she is actually quite attractive. But it is only _lust, _he knows, because her actual person, the _everything else that isn't physical_, on the other hand, doesn't leave much to be desired. Just lust, just a phase and nothing more.

It will eventually pass.

He's thought it _plenty _times before, and even said it aloud sometimes; Hex is a bitch. Forgetting entirely that she isn't always like that, that she's offered him a play to stay in the first few nights he's known her, this cheap apartment she's had rented just because he _wanted space, _even giving the money he doesn't know where from, and he actually has _food –_takeout, but still- _waiting _for him sometimes. Okay, so he didn't _forget. _Mello merely overlooks these facts. He needs a defense, damn it.

But Hex is also proving _very, very _useful, so he really should just stop moping and just _live with it,_ because it will all be worth it in the end. _It must. _Mello sees no other future than to have Kira's head, and Near on his knees.. The latter _probably _won't happen, but hey, he's still hoping. And L always _did _say that things will always be made possible if they set their minds to it.

Rather contradicting, since L said he'd solve the Kira case, and he is kind of.. _dead _now, but Mello wants to forget that for a while. Or at least, banish all thoughts of his predecessor to the back of his mind. Just for the moment. It shouldn't be so hard. He's _second _after all. And he isn't _second _for nothing.

_Suck it up. Hex will quicken your steps, not slow you down. _he tells himself firmly, _Two is only one after one. You're close. So close._

"Melly-bean!" Hex's voice is amused as she snaps her fingers in front of his twice. "Get your butt in gear; we need to go out."

"Didn't you say you'd contact Loss?" he reminds her, peeling himself off of the seat and he throws Hex her coat. Mello shoves his feet into his ratty sneakers, ambling towards the front door. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised that she is acting like nothing has happened; she _did _take the bullets in her somewhat lightly, so what happened shouldn't make her bat an eye at all.

Mello is strangely disappointed.

"I can do that _later," _she shakes her head dismissively, sashaying out the door past him as she pulls her gloves on. "We need to get a few things; maybe some more cell phones, laptops.. Then sulfur, wires.. Basically, we're going to set up a detonation system for the entire club, just in case things go the wrong way.. Uh.." She looks at him with a slightly sheepish grin. "Do you have any clue on how to make control explosions?"

"I'm a _detective, _not a _terrorist_," Mello deadpans, and he raises a blond eyebrow, unimpressed. "What kind of goddamn plan is _that?"_

She huffs, crossing her arms under her chest tightly as she waits for the whir of the door's alarm to beep. "I don't think too many things through, _okay?" _She confesses this, agitated. "What's wrong with making with what I've got so far? I mean, I'm _still alive here! _It shouldn't be too hard. I mean, we're pretty fucking _intelligent, _remember?_"_

"You're impossibly humble," he tells her, tone dripping with sarcasm. "But that so-called _plan _of yours will do nothing but heighten the risks." He shoots her a sly glance, "And we _both _know how you feel about these things now, hm?

"Shut the fuck up," Hex grits out, patience obviously thinning out like an unraveling spool of thread. And this is the Hex Mello's learned to dislike so much. "You said not to waste time, so let's be quick. I need to get a hell lot sorted out." Briefly, he contemplates on the theory that her behavior is due to losing Aiber and Wedy, but he immediately disagrees with himself. She's already cleared out that deaths hardly bother her anymore.

But why is she _still _like this?

As she takes a few steps ahead of him, going moving down the corridor swiftly, she spares him a quick glance over her shoulder, and she speaks blandly. "Hurry up."

* * *

TBC

* * *

_A/N: Yesterday was my birthday- gah, I feel so _old. _Uh, anyway, this one is somewhat of a filler, I suppose. I thought that they could use a slight break from all the action they've been doing, so I had them talk more.. and well, this was the outcome. So, any opinions, comments, constructive criticism will be absolutely _great! _:)  
_

_A special thanks to _C. Holywell-Black_ (Thanks for the compliment! :) I'm glad Mello's overprotective-ness didn't come off as OOC for you; I have this belief that Mafia!Mello is cold, but he's not _heartless, _right?_ _I'm really glad you liked the previous chapter, and I'm seriously hoping I didn't disappoint you on _this one_.), _Overboard343 _(You quote the story? haha, _wow._ Here's a little more Mello/Hex relationship building for you- hope it didn't suck, I'm not much for romance. I'm not revealing anything to you, that would spoil the suspense, wouldn't it? :P, _oOxCreativexOo _(Thanks for liking the story! :) Here's your update!), and _ChicalaMoya _(Good to know! :D I'm only gonna say that she's the type who'll do anything to get what she wants, but I think Hex is a little _too _serious here..) for reviewing!_ Sadly, I don't have a preview for you yet.. It's been a slow week for me. :(

_Review if you think Mello's _awesome!


	7. Six

_A/N: Hope you guys didn't give up on me or anything. D:_

* * *

_-  
-Ad__R__enaline  
_U  
S  
h

_Replace this fear inside.  
Take this nothingness from me.  
I want to find,  
I want to shine,  
I want to rise.  
_- _Break Me Down, _Red

_Chapter Six_

Rain is falling down heavily, wetting her clammy skin, matting her hair to her brow, and her clothes cling to her form like glue. They're taking slow steps, strolling casually down the slick streets past midnight, but all the thoughts in her head come rushed, speeding a thousand miles per hour and she's driving herself a little dizzy.

And it's obvious that Mello isn't faring any better than she is. He's tense beside her, gaze set straight in front of him and his brows are furrowed in concentration, contemplating, _thinking. _Hex already knows what's on his mind. It doesn't take an idiot to guess; the mafia. Pointedly ignoring her, too deep in his own thoughts and she's starting to wonder if he's decided to back out on this for the moment.

"You're not having any second thoughts, are you?" she inquires, tone neither amused nor curious, because she feels _neither _of the two. He's the wise guy who decided they try to get recruited instead of paying a visit to her contact. _He's _the cocky asshole who acted _so damn sure _of what he's doing here. She can't afford Mello chickening out tonight, she won't _let _him. Not when he's dragged her into this in the first place.

Mello stiffens at her snide words, trying to hide his palms in the pocket of his pants and realizes that he's not wearing his ratty jeans anymore. Hex has zero approval of his new leather-clad dominatrix look, but _again,_ Mello's been the one to insist on it. Geez, she must be getting soft to spoil him like she does. She imagines Wedy to be pretty disappointed her, wherever death took her.

"_No,_" he replies finally, not even daring to face her yet, and Hex knows it's because she can read any face like an open book. A pretty awesome ability she's never had the chance to thank Aiber for. It doesn't matter anymore. Mello's _lying, _she can _sense _it, but he's trying to hide it from her. She isn't too impressed with the tiny ounce of bravery he's trying to show her, but at least she won't have to drag him by his pretty choir-boy hair to Rod. "I'm just.. thinking."

She rolls her eyes at him, not that he's seeing. "Oh, _Really?" _She has her voice high-pitched and girly, mocking the childlike innocence she's lost too long ago. "I _never_would've guessed, Melly-bean!" Now thoroughly annoyed, she grabs him by the collar of his vest and pulls him to a stop, whirling him around to face her, and she hisses, "You do your best to remember that you _asked _for this. You _will _toughen up, or are you just some kind of _sissy?"_

He mimics her expression, eyes narrowed and a scowl adorns his lips. Reaching to the hand holding onto him, he yanks it away and holds it within his fist, in a way almost like _crushing._ "I'm _not _a fucking _sissy," _he says first, defending his manly man pride like she knows he would. "And quit being a bitch. You don't know what I was thinking. You don't know _anything."_

She tries to pull her hand away from him with little success, maybe due to the fact that she's seriously lacking any energy to do anything requiring any sort of physical effort, and she's stuck functioning like some kind of weakling. It sucks. Hex would've at least _tried _to get a power nap yesterday hadn't it been for _fucking Mello _and his bloody need to be in the mafia so quick. She's starting to seriously wonder if the mafia is really even _worth _all her misery.

"_What?_" she disagrees heatedly, her other hand clenching into a fist so tight her knuckles turn a pale white. "All _you _ever do is whine and yell and _bitch _at me about_everything! _All _you _do is order me around like some kind of fucking _servant, _telling me to go and _get things done _for you. You don't know _anything! You _want _in, _so I'm_doing _this to _get _you in. If you really _want _this, then start pulling your own weight. If you _don't, _then _leave me the fuck alone._"

Chest rising and lowering, she's shaking from her outburst. She finally has her hand free from him when he loosens his grip, a little nonplussed by her rage. Hex doesn't lose her temper, _no, _that's Mello's sort of thing, but she honestly can't stand him anymore. "Just.. No second thoughts okay? I can't afford any of that," she continues, her voice scratchy and raw, she speaks in a whisper. "It isn't fair if you do this."

Then, there is silence. Hex exhales heavily, and she feels as if a heavy weight's been lifted off of her shoulders by voicing everything to him. Heck, maybe she should start screaming at him more often- it's kind of stress relieving. Yeah, that's right. She's so _relieved, _and she doesn't really care if Mello's going to walk away or if he'll still stay. If he leaves, he'll have no one left. _Hex will have no one left, _but that's okay for her. She was _fine _alone before he came anyway.

Hex has almost always been alone, after all.

Swallowing a hard lump down his throat, Mello keeps his eyes trained on her face, but she's not looking at him anymore. She's watching raindrops fall into a puddle, disturbing the water with ripples, spreading out quickly until they turn to nothing. "I-" he starts, mouth opening slightly as if to say something, and Hex's ears wait patiently for what she wants to hear. It never comes. Instead, he asks something else, subdued and quiet and paranoid. He's changing the topic _so easily. _As if she's never mentioned _anything, _but Hex doesn't bother drilling her words into his head anymore. It's not worth it if he doesn't listen.

He's just so fucking stubborn. "We'll get in tonight, Hex. No matter _what _it'll take us."

The girl glances at him from the corner of her eye, before she stares high up into the sky, seeing nothing but the large wisps of dark gray clouds, sinisterly glowing as lightning strikes, her bright eyes eerily reflecting the display. Her anger dies to something weaker, and now all she feels is mild annoyance with him, but at least she knows that he's decided to stay. She doesn't address that at all, and she pretends not to even care. So she says, "Remember that we have no plan. Make things work as we go, expect the unexpected."

Mustering enough bravery, he coaxes her to face him, digging his fingers into the skin of her shoulder. She's looking at him distrustfully, suspicion dancing in her orbs, and he gives a small smirk, trying to lighten the mood a little. "The last bit was a little cliché, Hex."

"Cliché or _not, _I mean it," she bites her lower lip to stop herself from pouting. "Things have a way of getting out of hand, you know that. These people will not be some kind of_ joke._ You have to watch your step." She cranes her neck a little, standing up to her full height. Now her pink tongue darts out, and she licks at her lower lip slowly. "Don't give those fuckers an inch."

They are at the back entrance of the club, the rain already stopping and though he knows he might resemble a drowned cat, he has never felt so exhilarated and_nauseous_ at the same time. Hex stands beside him before the guard, hips cocked aside and she's staring up at the much taller man defiantly, as if daring him to do something.

Mello's taken on a more guarded stance, head lowered slightly so his bangs hide his eyes somewhat, but while no one can see him clearly, he sees everything _perfectly._The guard is lightly tanned, a short bowl cut of dirty blond hair and he looks completely, and utterly _grim. _Mello is tensed, like a coiled spring, prepared to pounce at any second. He's taken Hex's words _seriously, _because she knows these kinds of things, these kinds of people_._ He'll have to_ expect the unexpected_.

"What's in the bag?" The dude's voice is hard and mistrustful, gruff like some kind of gorilla. Mello steels himself not to be intimidated so easily. He _can't _have that sort of attitude towards things anymore.

Discreetly glancing at Hex, he sees her give a slight nod, allowing him to answer for them both."That's none of your business," he replies, swiftly pulling out his gun and raising it up to the guy's face. "Take us to your Boss. _Now." _When he hears Hex huff out in disapproval of his actions, he spares her another glance, wondering something along the lines of _'What the hell?'_

With a wide smirk spreading across his features, the man chuckles. "You think that's supposed to scare me?"

Deciding that this won't be going anywhere too soon, Hex intervenes, voice sharp and confident, but she sounds so _amused. _Mello watches her with interest, taking this as some sort of lesson in Wammy's, because he _wants _to put on the same façade as she does. It isn't as _easy_ as Hex makes it look, damn it. He notices that her eyes show none of the amusement she speaks with, and that they are hard and uncompromising, betraying absolutely _nothing_.

"Now, now," she says, like a mother reprimanding her children for bad behavior. "Is that how you people treat your guests? I'm a little disappointed." Hex's lips curl downwards at the man, losing the amused tone and she sounds so _cold _now. "I'm X. If you boss hasn't bothered to tell you, I've made arrangements for us to meet him tonight, so take us to him already before my friend here decides to end you."

The guy's gaze zeroes on her, completely ignoring the fact that the muzzle of Mello's gun pressed to his brow. "I don't care who the fuck you are, _X," _he uses Hex's alias spitefully. "Your name doesn't mean anything to me." Glaring at her, he adds, "I'd watch my mouth if I were you."

Including himself in the conversation now, Mello hisses. "You are in no position to make any threats now, _pal. _She's asked nicely, didn't she?" Narrowing his eyes at the gorilla, Mello sets his jaw tight, speaking through his teeth and readies the gun with a resounding _'click'. _"You heard her. Take us to Rod Ross. _Now."_

He flanks Hex, eyes darting to every corner of the room. For a _club, _it's eerily _quiet_ and the air is so thick, Mello imagines one could cut through it with a butter knife. High on the ceilings of each room they pass are surveillance cameras installed, probably watching their movement, and he's apprehensive. Hex, despite being trained_professionally, _is making a bloody _amateur _mistake in ignoring them completely.

But Hex isn't an idiot, he reminds himself, not _always _anyway, but that's beside the point here. He supposes that she's already taken care of these sorts of things- it makes more sense to him (but it doesn't make him relax one bit). He falls into step beside her, ascending the stairs after the blond mafia guy, dreading the idea that this might all be a trick or something.

As if hearing his thoughts, Hex gives him another one of her rare small smiles, again, _gone_ as soon as it comes, but somehow, it still reassures him much more than any one of her ridiculous comments he knows she's keeping down her throat. She looks away, hand reaching down to her right boot and she retrieves her gun quietly, twirling the device in her fingers like it's some kind of kid's toy.

When the guy leads them to a large room, what Mello first notices is that it is dark, and _empty, _and the first thing that comes to his mind '_shit'. _He doesn't know if they're being tricked, he doesn't know if this is what they're supposed to expect. But before he can turn back to the door, he hears it lock itself, he swallows thickly, and he can't help the sense of fear that settles itself in his stomach. Eyes wide, he turns to Hex and finds her with her gun aimed straight in front of her, ready to shoot.

Just like a bad action movie, a part of Mello thinks when he hears a chuckle not too far before them. The guard earlier wears a cocky grin, and then someone hits the lights. Rod Ross sits on a large, blood colored velvet couch, sipping on his red wine like he's got no goddamn care in the entire _world. _As if time _waits_ for him, as if he_has everything, _and Mello can practically _breathe _the air of power the mafia boss seems to _radiate_ in copious amounts.

Forgetting his fear, Mello's only momentarily _excited, _knowing that if this works out, that could _easily _be him. He _wants_ the confidence. He _wants_ the authority. He_wants_ the _power. _Mello wants.. Mello wants it _all_.

And then, _rudely _bringing him back to reality are the multiple clicks of guns, and he finally takes notice of the other men in the room. Beside him, Hex quirks a brow upwards, voicing her question in a demanding sort of tone. "What's with the guns, Rod? Didn't I say we would negotiate _civilly?_" She cocks her head aside, keeping her eyes trained on the mafia boss.

"You never mentioned a spare, girlie_,_" Rod says instead, bringing his glass to his lips again as he leans back into the furniture comfortably. Waiting, _waiting, _Hex doesn't answer, and the room seems to have dropped too many degrees in temperature. Somehow, Mello's hands are still too sweaty as he grips his semi-automatic. Rod Ross waves his free hand dismissively, and immediately, the other men lower their weapons, but they never drop them, _still _mistrustful.

_Still ready for anything. Still ready to expect the unexpected._

Mello doesn't speak just yet. After all, Hex is pretty much an expert at negotiation. He'll leave her to the small talk, and then he'll put his two cents in. Hex, apparently satisfied, decides to lower her gun as well, but like them, she holds it still firmly in her hand. "I'm surprised you even bothered to show up, Rod," she says with a smirk. "Not after I told you-"

He has no idea what they're even talking about. Narrowing his eyes, he shoots a small glare in her direction. Mello _abhors_ being out of the loop for _shit, _and he knows it annoys the _hell _out of people sometimes, but Mello honestly won't give a fuck about anyone but _himself _anymore(and maybe even _Hex_ too, but that could only be because he still needs her). He knows he's got a need-to-know complex, that he's getting more than a little selfish, but so what? It's survival of the fittest.

"I'm no coward," Rod scoffs easily, the hint of amusement never leaving his tone. "But in all honesty, I wanted to meet Aiber and Wedy.. in the _flesh, _for once_. _I just couldn't resist._" _The smirk widening at his lips, he sneers. "Who would have thought that both of them are the same person, hmm? Who would've thought that their faces are the face of a little _child?"_

Hex shakes her head, her tone harsher now. Mello doesn't know if she's taken the _'child' _remark as an insult or something. He can't tell too well if she's playing another act, or if she's genuinely _pissed_ like she seems to be. "You still owe me. _Big time, _Rod Ross. I want you to pay your debt."

"And if I refuse?" He prods, setting down his wine glass on the table beside him. "What will you do then?"

She giggles a little sinisterly, and grins, flashing pearly whites as she swiftly pulls out what looks to be an odd remote. She holds it casually, her thumb hovering above a single button on it and she says, "Then I blow this place up. I blow it all up and kill everyone in this shithole." As if answering an unspoken question, she narrows her eyes, raising her gun again, aimed at Ross's head and the other men in the room curse. "You can have them shoot me, but you'll be dead before me. Shoot _him," _she jerks her head at Mello, "and you'll end up the same way, _Rod._ You _will _pay your debt."

Mello inclines his head and he can't suppress the smirk that plays on his lips. She's throwing them off balance, she's showing them who really calls the shots around here. He hates to admit it, but Hex's idea for bombs and guns just might be the fucking _best_ worst idea she's ever has. He isn't worried for his life at all. He knows Hex is kind of self-destructive at times, but she won't resort to bombing. Not if he's still in here anyway. Hex _should _know what she's doing, right?He just needs to put a little more faith in her.

Rod Ross doesn't look too convinced, however. He _does _look a little more wary, and the other men have already raised their weapons slightly. "You wouldn't kill yourself over something as petty as a debt," he says slowly, again, waving his hand to make those men lower their _weapons _already. Mello can't really blame the guys for disobeying Ross's directive; Hex is threatening their boss's _life, _after all.

Hex shifts her thumb a little lower over the remote, and jams the pad of her thumb on it. Immediately, a loud _boom _echoes from outside the room, the overhead chandelier goes rattling, and the floor shakes a little. She smirks back at Ross, "Control explosions, Rod." Moving her thumb back to its original position, she asks, "And we _both _know what you owe is _anything_ but petty."

Rod Ross slowly pulls himself out of his seat, reaching to his full –_admittedly imposing- _height and he leers at them, working the kinks in his neck with a domineering smile. "Now… What is it.. that you want?"

Hex lowers her head, glaring at him through her bangs as she speaks. "We want in."

The mafia boss only seems to put a little more attention to him just then. Eyeing him from his head to toe over and _over_ when Rod chuckles now, directing his attention back to Hex. "Kids don't get in the mafia, girlie. Guns aren't toys to play with."

"Good thing we aren't kids, then," Mello mutters before Hex can speak. "Because we're serious."

He looks back to Mello with a wider grin. "Listen here, boy. This is the mafia, not some little _tea party. _You don't get in on whims so easily. You _earn_ your way in.. What have you got to offer me?"

With his buttons thoroughly _pushed, _Mello adopts a scowl, and retrieves from his bag his little present. He holds the beheaded mafia guy by the roots of his hair, and he inwardly grimaces at the feel of dried blood in the mane. The dead man's head is pale, eyes still wide open and from where his neck ends is jagged and carelessly cut through.

Mello watches Rod carefully, a little disappointed that he's gauged no other reaction than a quirked eyebrow, keeping his expression _blank_. All around him though, he sees some of the men's eyes widen. "Alfonso Rovere," Mello identifies. "You wanted him dead, didn't you?" Then, he discreetly swallows, praying for forgiveness inwardly for what he's about to do. As if he hasn't done enough to Alfonso already.

Mello cranes his neck confidently, letting the head slip from his hand and the cranium rolls on the floor towards Rod Ross. At the corner of his eyes, he sees Hex's eyes twinkle in sadistic approval of Mello's little show of nonchalance. The boss's eyes follow the head until it stops, and Mello speaks again to regain his attention, voice snide. "This isn't some _whim_."

"His family-"

Hex cuts him off, shaking her head and snorts derisively. "We've taken care of _that _already, Rod.. It was.. a _blast." _She twirls the remote in her hand in emphasis, and any half-wit will be able to guess what she has meant. He's still got a guilty conscience about having to blow that hotel up like he did, but at least it'll pay off soon enough.

Mello's lips twitch, curling upwards again into a smirk as he says, "You were saying?"

"So you obliterated an entire mafia," Rod shrugs. "That doesn't prove anything to me."

He cocks his head aside. "No? I thought it proved that we can do the same with _your _family."

_There_. The men raise their weapons again, taking two steps closer and they aim right at them. The mafia boss doesn't stop them this time, and he pulls out his own gun, pressing the muzzle right under Mello's chin. Mello knows he's tramping on dangerous grounds now, skating on thin ice, but he has to _do this. _Hex's face splits into a Cheshire cat grin beside him, probably enjoying the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

She's not stopping him. Mello thinks he _must _be doing something right, so he presses on. "We can wipe you out in less than a _second," _he whispers at Rod, trying to ignore the fear that strikes in him when he hears Ross's gun _click. _"You won't let that happen, would you? You won't kill me.." he looks at Hex. "or her.. You wouldn't_dare._"

Narrowing his eyes dangerously, Rod hisses vehemently. "What do you _want?"_

"I thought I told you," Hex sighs impatiently. "We want _in."_

The mafia boss's eyes dart to her. "To what purpose?"

Mello chuckles now, that mirthful sound that he heard Rod use against them not too long ago. That _laugh _that he takes pleasure to rub in everyone's _face. _He knows where this will go now. "Your family has all we need. We plan to obtain Kira's ability.. His killing power."

"Consider that," Hex continues. "Because you don't have much a choice here. You can let us in, and everyone will leave this place alive.. Or.." She laughs gleefully, because she has the same idea Mello does. ".. We can all die here."

Everyone in the room is pausing at their words, not quite knowing what to think anymore. But Ross? He stares at them so steadily_, _eyes expressing a mix of disgust and interest. Mello's smirk grows wider, and he comments, "Like that, you'll never have anything accomplished. You'll never have his powers, and you'll lose _everything."_

Hex eyes everyone in the room, travelling across their faces slowly until she reaches Rod's. "But if you agree to us, you should know that we will _not _stand for being used. Any sign, any _hint_ or any fucking _word _that sets us off, and we'll kill you. _All _of you. Don't even _think _to underestimate us."

"And you need us, don't you? Kira _knows _you exist. Kira can _still_ kill you," Mello speaks now. "Use us, and we'll _let_ that happen. Do things _our _way, and we can help you avoid that." Mello reaches his hand upwards, pushing Ross's gun away from his chin and he grins. "What do you say, Rod?"

But Rod Ross should know well enough that he _doesn't _have much of a say in this. Not even a choice. Mello knows that the guy won't risk losing his life nor his family's. So he isn't even surprised when Rod speaks, voice gruff and grim. _Surrendering _to them just like that.

"You're in."

* * *

TBC

* * *

_A/N: I'm _really _sorry I didn't update any sooner.. I was sick for a couple of weeks, I couldn't even stand for more than a minute, no joke. D: I got tested and all that crap- and now I'm all dosed up on meds. Ahem, anyways, how was this chapter? Was the mafia all okay and stuff? Was Rod Ross believable (cause I suck at writing the role of people like him)? Comments, ideas and criticism will be _greatly _appreciated. :)_

_A special thanks to:  
_C. Holywell-Black _(Thanks! And Update Queen? Haha, just Explode or Psycho'll do. :) I think I've really disappointed you with the speed of the update _this time. _Not much of Mello/Hex in this one though, but we'll get more of _that _later. Hope I didn't butcher Mello's realism- that'd suck. D:),  
_Go away 128 _(I like your pen name. :P Thanks for the compliment, and for liking Hex!),  
(Thanks for liking the writing style, and for liking Hex! :) I'm making it a personal mission not to make her turn out Mary Sue-ish or boring haha. Thanks for the correction, by the way- I'm going to have to correct that in the story. :D), and  
_Overboard343 _(haha, you're enthusiastic. :P The Mello/hex relationship'll come. Won't say _when, _but it will. I'm not going to comment on anything else- that'll spoil the story haha, I'm sorry. :) And thanks!)  
for reviewing!_

* * *

_Preview:_

Before Hex can leave the room, she feels Mello grab at her arm quick, jerking her towards him and she trips on her feet, but Mello doesn't catch her like she thinks he would have. _No, _he slams her to the nearest wall and her back _stings, _but he isn't done. His other hand snakes to her hair, fingers threading painfully and he _yanks _her white-blond locks, forcing her to face him.

"_Why _don't you care?" he interrogates, narrowed eyes searching hers angrily, _furiously, _and he tightens his grip. Hex bites back a gasp at the abuse. Mello's shaking slightly, she can feel him, and his eyes are glassy. She would've _cared, _she _should've _but he's the one _hurting_ her like this, so she doesn't answer. Growling, he yells louder now, "_Answer _me!"

_Uh, review, please? :)_


	8. Seven

_A/N: Holy crap, I realized that the previous chapter didn't mention one of my reviewers. If you're reading this, _ _please know that it wasn't intentional. For some reason, my account keeps on making your penname disappear_. Really, _really _sorry about that. _Really._ ):

* * *

_Because these things aren't easy like they have been once before.  
These things aren't easy anymore.  
Why do you do this to me?  
Why do you do this so easily?  
- Why, _Secondhand Serenade

_Chapter Seven_

_"Was that really the best you could do?" Wedy questions at her, snide, cruel and uncompromising. The woman daintily pulls her cigarette away from her red stained lips, small wisps of gray smoke trailing upwards into the stale atmosphere. She circles the girl slowly, like a feline studying her pray, taking in every detail. Every scratch, every tear, every bead of sweat that rolls down Hex's features. Every hint of fear she shows. "I am _hardly _impressed, Hex."_

_A little over than six feet before them is the still body of an elderly man, mouth left open in a soundless cry of pain that Hex can still hear in her ears- _playing _and _repeating _like a broken record-, eyes wide yet unseeing, and his hand grips at his clothing, right where his heart no longer beats. Hex looks away quickly. She bites her lip in a futile attempt to halt its quivering, and softly, she whispers out, "I-.. T-there were some.. d-difficulties, Wedy."_

_Her words seem to fall only on deaf ears. Wedy looks down at her from the dark shade of her sunglasses, hardly aiding her vision in the dark room but Hex knows too well she sees her just fine. Wedy doesn't listen to her. Wedy _never _listens. "I gave you three minutes to infiltrate, Hex. Was that not lenient enough?" Wedy turns her head to the carcass, scoffing indignantly. "And what is _that_ supposed to be?"_

_"T-that's the.." The seven year old swallows, and then reminds herself that Wedy has no tolerance at all for her stuttering. Raising her head, she says clearly this time. "That's what I was referring to.. The uh, problem." _

_Her mentor delicately picks up the man's identity tag, processing the information it gives quickly. "_This man_ is evidence, Hex. Something you should _avoid _making at all. He should not have been a problem for you. In fact, you should've been able to slip past him _easily._" Glaring at the girl from where she crouches, she speaks in a deadlier tone. "You disappoint me."_

_"I-" she tries again. "He was_ _having a _stroke, _Wedy! He was dying! I couldn't just-"_

_Wedy's voice cuts her own childish babbling and Hex is, like always, forced into silence. "You couldn't just leave him there to die?" The older woman laughs, not the amused kind, but the kind she always hears when Wedy is _very _displeased. Hex almost backs a step in apprehension, _almost.

_She can easily feel the woman's gaze boring holes into her face. Wedy stands again to her full height, tossing the tag carelessly onto the floor and she sidesteps it, taking slow steps towards the girl again. "I gave you _three minutes. _You gave me _five, _jeopardizing your mission for a man you don't even know." As if sensing the words Hex wants to say, she continues. "I don't _care _if you care, Hex. You know how it's supposed to work."_

_"Ah, 'course I do," Hex agrees meekly, lowering her head, ashamed and disgusted. Swallowing again, she recites, "I can't jeopardize the mission, whatever the circum..circumstance. Finish the job, stay unseen or if otherwise, do not hesitate to kill. Leave nothing behind." She closes her eyes nervously as she says the words. "Every second counts."_

_Wedy's blood red lips curl upwards on one side, only a little pleased. "You're still too soft my tastes, darling. That man would've sounded the alarm if I hadn't interrupted." Hex nods once in agreement again, and Wedy sighs impatiently. "I've told you once, I've told you a million times; don't be afraid to use your gun. People die anytime, Hex, and it hardly matters how or when it happens. It _still happens, _so don't be afraid to kill._"

_Hex's throat tightens too painfully she almost forgets to breathe. The girl gives a helpless roll of her shoulders, as if not knowing what to say or do anymore. Distressed, she admits, "That didn't make me feel any better at all."_

_"It wasn't supposed to," the older woman chuckles, standing right in front of the younger girl now, and Hex meets her eye to shaded eye. "You have a choice, Hex, to either let get the guilt consume you, or to forgive yourself and to just forget what you've done. Forgetting becomes easier when you no longer care."_

_The woman's apprentice's eyes are glassier this time as she says with complete conviction. "I don't want to care anymore." The muted grip at Hex's heart suddenly intensifies to a more painful hold, like it's decided itself without her permission to go ripping apart at the seams, little threads revealing themselves and disappearing to nowhere. As if they never existed to begin with.  
_

_"Then _don't."

* * *

She doesn't even have to open her eyes to know that Mello's face is right in front of her, just a hair's breadth away. Hex feels more than a little suffocated by him, brows knitting together and her eyes shut tighter, trying to stop herself from hitting him on the head with her gun. _Ease up, _she tells herself firmly. _What you don't see, isn't there. Keep ignoring him- maybe he'll go away._

But fat chance. He's _Mello, _for pete's sake, does she honestly need to remind herself how _annoyingly_ _stubborn _he is? _Hex_ imagines that he maybe has his eyes too wide, staring _bullets _into her features with his usual brand of child-like curiosity. She sets her jaw, already knowing by his ceaseless gazing and _weird _silence, that he wants something. And he won't leave her the fuck alone until he _gets _what he wants, that spoiled _brat._

With the realization, she ends her deliberate ignorance. She peeks her eyes open slowly, meeting his own set of blues, and they ensue an impromptu staring match. And they're not just looking at each other, but they're _seeing _now, and she _hates _it. She _hates _that it makes her feel identified, kind of _exposed. _And not to mention, his stare is starting to make her cheeks redden slightly. She absolutely _abhors _it.

She means, _please! _When the hell did Hex become such a.. weak-willed _blushing _girlie? She's supposed to be _badass, _damn it, and badass people don't_ blush. _It's practically law. She narrows her eyes out of pure anger and impatience, but Mello? She doesn't know what she sees in his eyes but the usual curiosity melding with his endless blue. As if under a spell, neither one dares to even blink.

Then, as if she burns to the touch –or like she's got _cooties, _a snide part of Hex thinks-, he gingerly reaches his leather-clad fingers to her hair, slowly brushing away her bangs so he can see her without the easy obstacle. Mello's being so _careful,_ so goddamn _careful _not to break her. Like she'll _break, _and he's starting to freak her out like nobody's business.

Hex decides to end this.. uh, moment before it gets a little out of hand. "What do you think you're doing?" she asks him innocently, but her tone is laden with undisguised vehemence. Mello's fingers pause in their tracks too short a second, but she senses that he's hesitating a little. The idea that he's starting to back off calms her enough for her to be aware of their position.

Or rather, _his _position, because she's only lying down on the too large bed with nothing better to do. Mello's sitting on the edge of the bed, one palm pressing down beside her on the mattress to keep him upright and he's just hovering over her, the tips of his butter blond hair tickling her skin. Geez, _there goes her calm. _She's back to feeling discomfort once again.

Her _dear –_please note her _heavy _sarcasm- Melly-bean quirks a brow upwards. His lips go twitching into a tiny smirk, _knowing _what she's thinking, _totally _disregarding her claustrophobia, amused at _her - _he's embedding himself deep into her _last _nerve. The bastard. "I thought you were asleep," he murmurs, voice no louder than a whisper. Like he doesn't want _anyone _listening in on them, but that's funny, because there's no one else in here but him and her.

"Yeah. Uh huh, sure," she deadpans carelessly, not quite paying him the attention he's calling for. "But that doesn't really give you an excuse to go breathing in my face now, does it?" Hex swats his hand away from her hair and forces him to move away by sitting up abruptly. She reaches for her coat on the other side of the bed, wearing the sleeves roughly as she glares at the other teen.

Mello shrugs, pulling out a bar of chocolate from nowhere. He tears the foil wrapper expertly, sinking his teeth into the candy like he's some kind of weirdo Dracula, like he's been _made _to do it. "Call it what you will," he drawls out lazily, but he quickly changes the subject. Mello's been doing this a _heck _lot nowadays, Hex notices. "Jose's been on my neck about you terrorizing him."

"So long as I'm concerned," she shoots back, crawling across the bed on all fours to reach the edge. "He's yet to start pissing in his pants before I call it _terrorizing._ All _I _did was insult him.. Just a little.." Mello looks at her with a raised brow. "Okay, a _lot, but _geez, he's such a fucking pansy." She picks up her leather gloves from the chest at the foot of her-_their- _bed and tugs them on, wearing another dirty look. "So he goes _telling _on me now? He's in the _mafia, _not some little _kids _show where he cries to _mommy_."

A warning look. "Hex.."

Hex ignores him, finally off the bed and she brushes away the non-existent dust from herself, as if she's been lying in bed for ages instead of a short hour. "And you go and get yourself miffed by his freaking _whining, _and now you're probably here to tell me to start _'being nice'." _She crinkles her nose distastefully, because _really, _she thinks stupid Jose doesn't _need _her nice. She doesn't like him one _bit._

Mello's eyes narrow dangerously as he goes as stiff as stone. He clenches his free hand into a tight fist, the other slowly lowering his bar of chocolate from his mouth. Probably radiating murderous intent, but Hex doesn't get intimidated _that _easy. "Don't make any goddamn assumptions when I hardly said _anything,_" he speaks angrily, teeth baring like some kind of wild animal in an angry snarl. "Quit being a bitch- why the fuck are you so worked up?"

"Am _not," _she insists, her lower lip jutting out into a frustrated sort of pout, and she crosses her arms.

"Are _too."_

She scoffs indignantly, rolling her eyes in that mocking manner she does so well. Hex cocks her hip to one side, raising her head as if to set a challenge for him. Just as she expects him to, he takes the bait. So damn predictable. So _Mello. _"What are you- _five?"_

He scowls at her insult as soon as she utters it, already stalking towards her and he towers over her so _easily. _Hex still has her chin up defiantly, _daringly, _and her bright eyes give off that glint that had been one of the reasons Jose went squawking to Mello in the first place. Not like he knows that. _No. _He's too busy accepting her challenge. He's too busy being pissed at her, the asshole. It's not like she's done anything wrong, right? "Do _not _change the subject, Hex."

Her pink tongue darts out from her mouth, licking at her lower lip slowly. "Why the hell not?" she says this in a cheeky whisper, trying to stop herself from using an angrier tone. _Control, _Aiber's always said_. Never back down. _"_You _did."

Mello grits his teeth together, taking one step closer but she doesn't back away. He shakes his head, as if trying to shake off a thought Hex doesn't know. "This isn't about me," he tells her, but before he continues, she cuts him off with a smirk.

"So this is about _Jose, _huh? Melly-bean, is there something between you two that you aren't telling me?"

Taunting him, she knows he realizes that she's trying to rile him up, and she's doing it pretty good so far. Mello's fists clench even tighter now and his knuckles turn white, _shaking_ visibly. He's restraining himself from lashing out completely- she triggers his temper _so _effortlessly. "Stop it," he hisses firmly, and finally their fronts touch. Hex barely stops herself from recoiling from the contact. She _hates _it. "_Stop it. _This is about _you."_

Hex's smirk falls just like that. She dons a livid expression that rivals his own, eyes blazing and she sheds all traces of her playful persona. "What _about _me?" she demands to know, stomping her foot down because she _knows _she's immature. So sue her. "You're in the _mafia _now. What _more _do you want from me?"

Before he can answer a quiet rustling at the door gains their attention. They both turn their heads to it after a little jolt, and Hex mutters something along the lines of, "_I don't believe this," _ignoring the look of slight confusion that dances behind Mello's eyes. She heads towards the only exit of the bedroom as she pulls out her gun, turning the knob and letting the door swing wide.

There in all his glory is the rat himself, _Jose_, staring at them, but more to her, with eyes wide in horror, Hex notices this with pleasure. She _loves _the reputation she's gained in such a short span of time. The fear she strikes down their spines. She _inhales _this fear, breathes it, before her gun gives off a resounding click as she raises it to the man's head, leering. "Well, well," she whispers, forgetting for a moment that Mello's just behind her, _watching. _"Jose.. Were you _eavesdropping?"_

Of course he was, but Hex wants to _hear _it. She wants that little _snitch _to admit it. Barely five seconds pass and her patience is all but gone. He won't answer. _Coward._ Cocking her head aside, she presses the muzzle of her weapon to the taller man's brow. "I hated you to begin with," she confesses to Jose with a grin stretching across her face. "Good for nothing,_ filho da puta.. _I'll see you in hell."

And there is a bullet through his brain faster than she cares to process. But _he's dead. _

She looks up from the doorway out to the corridor, where Zakk and Eddie are watching her carefully, _guardedly_. Narrowing her eyes, she gestures to the body and says, "Somebody clean that up." Spinning on her heel back into the room, she locks the door to see Mello less than a foot away from her. "You were _saying, _Melly-bean?"

His shoulders are rising and falling at a fast pace, ragged, uncontrolled breathing racking his frame. Mello's got this crazed look in his eye, like the tight lock he's had on himself is finally crushed to _dust. _The cold exterior he's been wearing ever since they've gotten in the mafia? It's gone. It's just _Mello _now. Him, and _pure anger. "_That was cold blooded murder, Hex."

"No," she shakes her head a little, shifting her weight to one foot and she tosses her gun carelessly onto the bed. Her tone is light and frisky, but she knows he can hear that edge that comes with it. "That was exterminating a pest."

Mello closes the gap between them again. "He had a _life, _Hex. He's _human. _Doesn't that _mean anything? _He had a fucking _family _and you ended it for him like some kind of _monster.__"_

She disregards the slight twinge pulling at her heart as he speaks that last word, and her eyes widen suddenly, as if only realizing the situation. She killed Jose. Just because he was annoying her. Just because she was in a goddamn _bad mood? _Hex's killed before, but she's never done it out of anything other than necessity. She wants to curse out loud, but Mello's _here, _and she can't afford to let him see her slip. Not even a _little._

Because Hex doesn't _regret. _It's _unheard of, _ludicrous_. _So she puts on a façade that hides her, like a mask, that _mocking _exterior she's decided she likes so much. She's so good at pretending, sometimes she forgets which one is really her. "It's no big deal, Melly-bean," she gives an easy roll of her shoulders. "I've killed _plenty _before, disregarding all that shit. He's nothing special, and it doesn't matter to me anyway."

"What's _with _you?" Mello spits out finally, eyes penetrating her own for an _answer_. "You've been acting bat-shit _crazy _ever since we've _got _here, acting like a _bitch _and offing too many people for no fucking _reason. _You lock yourself in here like it solves the fucking _problem _when it _doesn't. _Why the hell are you so _pissed off _at everything?"

It's almost as if she didn't hear, because her reply is simple. Two words, three syllables. Rolling off her tongue like nothing ever matters to her anymore. "Stop caring."

Before Hex can leave the room, she feels Mello grab at her arm quick, jerking her towards him and she trips on her feet, but Mello doesn't catch her like she thinks he would have. _No,_ he slams her to the nearest wall and her back _stings, _but he isn't done. His other hand snakes to her hair, fingers threading painfully, and he _yanks _her white-blond locks, forcing her to face him.

"_Why _don't you care?" he interrogates, narrowed eyes searching hers angrily, _furiously, _and he tightens his grip. Hex bites back a gasp at the abuse. Mello's shaking slightly, she can feel him, and his eyes are glassy. She would've _cared, _she _should've _but he's the one _hurting _her like this, so she doesn't answer. Growling, he yells louder now, _"Answer _me!"

He's_ hurting _her somehow. Not that physical pain, but she'll take it any day. Right where her heart's beating, she feels as if it's starting to pull apart at the seams again. It _hurts, _it _stings. _And the pain is all too familiar to her.

Disapproval. _Hate. _Scorn. _Loathing. _Mello must think she's so _below _him right now, she _sees _that in his eyes. She sees how much he wants to hurt her, how much he wants to scream the sense into her. Hex doesn't know _why _he doesn't just do it. She _sees, _but she doesn't know why he cares so much, and it scares her.

She's never wanted to care about Mello either. Hex's tried stopping herself, but now she's got a _weakness, _she's so sick of it. She shouldn't have gotten too close to him, because she shouldn't care. Hex should've treated Mello just like she treats everyone else; _cold, uncaring, selfish. _But what makes _Mello _so different? What makes her _care _so much about what Mello thinks, says, or does? What makes her care about _Mello?_

She shouldn't.

_Because caring hurts_.

Hex tears her eyes away from him and forces them shut, as if she's cringing away from everything. She doesn't think about so much anymore that Mello's watching, that his face is right in front of hers. She doesn't _want to hear of it. _As much as she tries to stop the stinging sensation at the back of her eyes, she starts to feel wet trickling down her cheeks.

And she's crying.

For the first time in far too long she's _crying._ For getting disowned as a kid, for being left out in the streets, for being sent to too many foster cares. For being sent away by L, for Wedy, for Aiber. For _Mello. _For herself- all that she's said and done, all she's killed, all she ever held in. Hex just loses it, and she cries.

Mello loosens his grip on her arm, unthreading his fingers from her hair and she hears him call her name quietly. She feels his fingers trail from her hair, ghosting down her cheek until he reaches her chin, tilting her head up, _so much more _gently this time. He says her name again, questioningly this time, but Hex doesn't want to face him anymore.

"Leave me alone," she says thickly, _brokenly _even. "Just leave me alone."

Hex feels Mello pulling away from her far too slowly, it's like he's hesitant. He says nothing anymore, and the sounds of his footsteps walking away from her are drowned by the pounding in her ears. She doesn't even register the moment he leaves the room.

If he even leaves at all.

* * *

TBC

* * *

Hex's vocabulary:  
_Filho da puta- _son of a bitch. (Portuguese)

* * *

_A/N: A little peek on what Hex's childhood was like with Wedy. And uh... Hex just had a breakdown- I don't know what to make of it, actually. This one kind of wrote itself. This chapter's a little dramatic/serious/angry, don't you think? Meh. Tell me what you think- comments, ideas and constructive criticism are very welcome. :) *hint hint*  
_

_A special thanks to:  
_Kira the Wolf_ (Thank you! :) Hope you enjoyed this update.)  
_ChicalaMoya _(Thanks! :D I guess this chapter shows how Hex's affected by the mafia and stuff. And thanks also for commenting on Rod's appearance, 'cause I kind off pulled _that _one out of my butt, haha.)  
_C. Holywell-Black _(Thanks for liking the writing style. :D And I'm glad you approved on the mafia initiation-thingy; my paranoia told me it'll be weird if they get in so easily. . Also, I'm glad Rod was believable to you haha. Kind of eased off the pressure for me. Hope you enjoyed this one. :))  
_Overboard343 _(I updated this week. :P I hope you enjoyed this one like you did with the last chapter. Thanks also for commenting on Mello and Rod- I don't know squat about Scarface or the Godfather either, haha. :P) for reviewing!_

_Preview:_

On the floor, in the center of this too clean room is the familiar boy he knows. Leg tucked closer to his abdomen like it's his own idea of security, and while a pale hand busily stacks cards, the other disappears into his own head of sugar-white, curly hair, twirling never-ending circles. _Monotonous, _his voice, and so quiet it's just above a whisper. "Matt knows where they are. Please tell me."

Polite as they are, they both know Near's words are a demand.

_la-la. Reviews will be very much appreciated. :)  
_


	9. Eight

_A/N: And uh, sorry for the delay- Matt refused to cooperate with me.._

_

* * *

_

_It's not a new life,  
It's the same old one.  
Just different.  
- New Life, _O+S

_Eleven Months Ago, _New York

_Chapter Eight_

_As soon as he redirects his gaze, Matt knows he can sense his stare. On the floor, in the center of this too clean room is the familiar boy he knows. Leg tucked closer to his abdomen like it's his own idea of security, and while a pale hand busily stacks cards, the other disappears into his own head of sugar-white, curly hair, twirling never-ending circles._

Monotonous_, his voice, and so quiet it's just above a whisper. "Matt knows where they are. Please tell me."_

_Polite as they are, they both know Near's words are a demand. Matt raises his right hand and proceeds to bite on his thumbnail to hide his smirk._ _"You'd have to be a little more specific, Near." No, Matt knows _exactly _who Near's looking for, but hell if he'll just blurt out the truth like that. As much as Near is his friend too, Matt will only disclose information if the teller allows it. As if Mello's allowed it._

_Near inclines his head slowly, pausing his girly hair twirling for a short two seconds. The albino, Matt realizes, is trying to psyche him out with a stare like he does with every other Wammy occupant. Trying to pry the secrets out of him, detect the lies and gauge Matt's reaction, but his lies are as convincing as any truth he tells. Near speaks again. "There are parts of Hex's files that are missing. I would ask Mello if he has them in his possession, but he can no longer be traced.. And neither can Hex. Has Matt anything to do with this?"_

"_What do you think?" he asks innocently, quirking a brow upwards like the notion of it is plainly absurd. "If I didn't, then should I have? If I did, then what of it? The fact still remains that they've disappeared off your radar." Then, curiously now. "Did you intend to keep tabs on Mello? And why were you nosing through Hex's files, anyway?"_

_The sugar-haired boy gives him a deadpan stare. "I can do as I please without having my intentions questioned. Need I remind Matt that I am now L?" _

_Matt snorts quietly. "Was that supposed to impress me?" Cocking his head aside, he drawls out lazily. "As far as I'm concerned, you're still Near unless you get rid of that fake L. But even then, you'll still be Near to me."_

_Instead of replying to his words, Near asks, "Matt has no intention to stay here, does he?" _

"_.. Nope."_

_

* * *

_

The barely audible sound of dripping brings the attention to the bathroom. The door is left ajar, and the tiled floors are left carelessly wet, a pool of water coming from the tub and leading to the sink. Matt has both his palms pressed onto the sink as if to balance himself. He stares in vanity, taking in his image of pale, grayish skin and too hollow cheeks, still slightly flushed from his shower. His own green eyes bring back the memory of his happier days, so he skips this feature in favor to see his own handiwork.

His hair –left like a ragged mop he can't be bothered to tame- is still damp, but he sees that the dye is doing its job in changing his appearance, even if only just a little. No longer a violent Irish red mane, but rather a dull brown; inconspicuous, ordinary, and boring. As he exhales, his breath fogs up the mirror and he asks himself if he's still glad he's left Wammy's.

Nothing against the orphanage, but Matt hadn't the slightest intention to disregard completely how everything seemed to be crumbling down to his feet. It's only become more apparent to him now, how he's never really had a life in that so-called house. The other children stared at him like he was about to blow, and Matt used to think that he just might. He couldn't deal with Roger watching him like a hawk either, clearly thinking that he'll go after Mello, thinking he's so ready to bolt out of those gates without regards to where he'll go.

Roger isn't, by all means, _wrong, _but did he really think Matt capable of pulling such a stunt _willingly_ when he's practically been living in a space of four walls and no windows for almost his whole life? Matt wants to _laugh_ in that croon's face. Who is he kidding? All Matt knows is an existence in dark rooms and stuffy airs. Eyes only seeing pixels from computers, television and games alike, and always hearing the silence he values most.

Outside is where people die, and as much as he knows Mello and Near will readily lie their lives down for _L, _only for _L, _Matt is _not_ ready to die. Outside is brutal and cruel; only about survival. Outside is where air is too fresh, and it's too bright when the sun beats down. Outside is where wind will come rushing in his face and he'll see too much life and death- animals, people, trees, it's _horrifying. _Outside? Outside is an absolute nightmare.

No, Matt hadn't been willing to leave Wammy's at all, but life there had become pure purgatory. He couldn't take it anymore, so he left, disregarding his phobia. He left without looking back. He _left._

And up till now, he's nowhere to go, nothing to do but to just live on the sidelines, watching both Near and Mello like an invisible shadow, completely unseen. He left, not for them, but for him to have his own peace of mind. Don't get him wrong, he's got little to no interest at all in defeating Kira, but L is a part of him too. He's _third, _not chopped liver and hell if Matt's just going to let them _overlook _him like he's nothing at all.

* * *

_Kid.  
__I've been trying to get contact with you. We need to talk.  
__Meet 2.5 miles away, thirty degrees southwest from your hotel in three days.  
__Preferably 13 00 hours. Do not be late._

Three days ago, he sends the message without much thought. Now thoughts race in his mind; _what if_s and nonsensical scenarios playing. He knows all he wants to say to her, but what he _doesn't _know, is if he'll voice anything out. He's uneasy, even if there's nothing to be worried about. Matt knows Hex from when they were children, before Mello, before she was sent away. They were kids- they're _still _kids, taking the world like they've been doing it their whole lives. Just filling in the shoes of the people who used to mean something to them.

Matt shakes his thoughts away, and his now brunette hairs fall before his eyes, stirring a little as the wind picks up. People are rushing to go indoors but still he hears too much chatter, too many cars honking and sirens blaring, all the noise is ringing in his ears as if on replay. In the distance, lightning strikes and Matt feels more than just a little lonely.

Two hours go by at a snail's pace, and the snow is melting through his cotton jacket and his skin is tinged blue. He's cold, and he's lonelier, and he knows by now that Hex isn't coming at all. His patience is gone away with the chilly breeze, and its storming. He's got no point in sticking around under a lamppost any longer.

So he slouches forward with his head down, eyes kept on the pavement as he weaves past the thinning crowds with an absurdly leisurely pace, but Matt wants more than anything to break into a sprint to the 'sanctuary' of his sad little one bedroom apartment. Tempting, because it isn't far, but he needs to endure. He _needs _to get over his agoraphobia, even if it kills him.

It feels like forever's ended before he's at the door, pulling out the key with a bare, shaky hand and Matt thinks he's likely to get hypothermia. His heater is busted, there's no hot water and he's got nothing but meds to pull him out of it, but whatever. He'll have to make with what he has, even if it sucks six ways to Sunday.

Routinely, he takes off his jacket as he kicks off his ratty sneakers, and it takes him a while to realize that the whole place is warmed up, and the kitchen light is left on. Tapping the heater, he sees that it's working fine- someone's fixed it. Someone's _been_ here –and it's definitely not the landlord; he's a prick-, and might _still _be here. Disregarding his oncoming migraine, the wheels in his mind begins turning quick. His eyes sharpen, scanning every nook and cranny of the living room to see if anything is out of place.

Then he notices the clock hanging on the otherwise empty wall. His wristwatch tells him it's three fifteen now, but the clock reads one. It doesn't make sense, because he remembers the clock working just fine when he left this morning. He steps closer to scrutinize it further, and realizes that the hour and minute hand is frozen in place, _precisely _one o'clock, but the second hand whirls counter clockwise uncontrollably. One o'clock. 13 00 hours. The _exact _time he's arranged them to meet.

Saying this is a mere coincidence is a stretch, and it sounds wrong to his head either way. He makes the epiphany that she's _here, _and ignoring the fact that his legs are almost numb, he proceeds to search the entire place. The kitchen, but it's empty, save for Freddy wagging his tail contentedly, chewing leftover pizza –Matt's dinner- under the table. The bathroom sounds stupid, but he checks anyway, even tentatively pulling at the shower curtain to be thorough. _Empty._

He finally finds her in his bedroom, hand halfway in a bagful of whatever and she's on his cheap single bed, leaning against the metal headboard like she hasn't a care in the world. She doesn't jump at his sudden entry, but she does blink at him curiously, an amused grin playing on her lips. She gives him a once over, gaze lingering on his hair, his drowned state, his face. Then she comments, "I liked you better as a redhead."

He knows she's been trained in observation just as he is, so Matt isn't even surprised she recognizes him. Either way, it's blasphemy to forget the face of the person who demanded they'd be friends. Even with the change of appearance, even after hardly seeing him for too long. Matt almost smiles at the memory.

Hex watches as he closes the door behind him, pulling out a particularly large cookie from the bag and she takes a bite. "I saw you leaving this building around eleven," she begins to explain her presence. "Wasn't really hard to find this place after that- I thought it'd be better if we met somewhere a little more private."

Matt doesn't ask about her fixing the heater. It sounds stupid to mention anyway. "You could've told me that before I left, you know," he remarks instead, picking up the Styrofoam cup of espresso that she gestures him to take. He takes a large sip, reveling in the feeling of heat going down his throat. "Instead, you let me freeze my ass off waiting out. I thought you were gonna be a no show."

"Technically, I didn't show." She inclines her head to meet him eye to eye, and long, errant locks of her white-blond hair spill down her neck slowly. She smirks as she adds, "But honestly, you'd think a guy would go indoors as soon as a storm hits. No, you wanted to defy logic and freeze your ass off." She giggles. "Some genius you turned out to be."

Used to Mello's verbal abuse, he isn't affected by her jibe in the least. Still, he says, "That wasn't funny, Hex."

She rolls her eyes. "Never said I was a comedian, Mattie-boy." Matt sits himself beside her on the bed, and it sinks down slightly with the added weight. Hex stretches her legs across his lap, using him as a footrest. "But aren't we getting a little off track? You wanted to talk, so let's talk already," stifles a yawn as she says this. "What's up?"

"L's dead."

"Yeah."

"Wammy's is falling apart."

"Yep."

"I left Wammy's."

"Obviously, since you're here," she gives him a look, as if she's trying to reason with a child. "Why don't you tell me something I don't know?"

Matt sighs, staring at the ceiling with tired eyes, and colors dance in his line of vision. "Okay. Near's trying to pinpoint your location." His eyelids fall shut heavily as he murmurs. "And about that.. Mello found you yet?"

There is a short silence. And then, she replies too pleasantly, but any halfwit will be able to tell that she's absolutely displeased, absolutely sardonic. "Oh _yeah, _He's a _regular_ ray of sunshine, Mattie-boy- we're even braiding each other's _hair _now!" He doesn't expect her to kick him in his side with the heel of her boot. Matt grunts in discomfort, but she's on a roll. "Give me a little heads up next time. I don't _babysit, _you asshole."

"Mello doesn't need looking after," he says, feeling a little awkward talking about Mello like he's his daddy or something. It's a lie, of course, but Hex doesn't have to know that. "I would've told you, but I didn't think you've shed your habit of running away from things you want nothing to do with. I know you-"

The younger girl kicks him again. "_Correction. _You _knew _me. I'm like a total stranger to you now."

Matt smirks. "Somehow, I doubt you've changed much." Another lie he tells smoothly, flawlessly. He thinks she's changed in more ways than just her appearance. She's bolder, more confident, more violent even. He hasn't decided if he's liking this new Hex just yet. He's great at adapting with changes, but Matt's never really been the type to appreciate it.

"I've changed _plenty,_" she sniffs grumpily. "And for the better _too, _Mattie. Accept it, live with it. Get over it."

"Yeah, yeah," he waves her off, peeking his eyes open slightly just to glare at her a little. "I get the idea." He bites back calling her _touchy _with exaggerated syllables. He thinks it a sore subject for Hex, for some reason, so he drops it, not out of consideration (to hell with _that), _but he really doesn't feel like having her bruise his side anymore.

So he changes the topic a full three sixty degrees. "Mello's really not that bad, Hex. Kind of a prick, but really.. He's got good intentions._"_

Hex's irritation with him dissipates for the moment. She looks dubious by his statement, quirking a delicate brow upwards and she says, "Either you're fucked up in the head, or he's told you nothing." She glances around the room briefly in paranoia –probably wondering if the entire place is secure- before she leans downwards, whispering in his ear so quietly he thinks he might have imagined her saying it. "He wants in the mafia."

"So he's told me," he says.

"You're fucked up in the head," she decides, scrutinizing him intently. "Definitely."

Matt ignores her, asking wryly. "When you guys get in, could you give me a job or something? And I'm not talking garbage duty. I need cash. Seriously."

She thumps him in the head this time, pulling away from him with a glower. "Stop talking. You're missing the point."

"I wasn't aware there'd be a point." If looks could kill, Matt thinks he'll be burnt beyond recognition already. He quits pushing her buttons and dons an easy smile. "I was _joking. _Well, not really, but yeah… I'll shut up now. Talk."

Hex keeps her silence to test him, pouting defiantly and Matt wonders why he lets her intimidate him like that. But apparently satisfied, she speaks again. "Tell me where the hell the good intentions in getting the mafia are. Sure, they've got power, authority and all that shit, but I don't see how some organized crime syndicate will help in 'defeating Kira'."

Matt shakes his head. "No, he's serious about that last bit- wants to avenge L, beat Near, be number one… Mello's plan doesn't really make sense to me either, but his methods are unorthodox. I'd just go with it if I were you."

"But you're _not _me," she reminds him, furrowing her brows as she questions. "Why's you sic him after me, anyway? Regardless that the mafia's more likely to be in the police records than I am, I'm _still _a freaking _criminal, _Matt. _Not _someone you'd want to associate with," she looks frustrated now, sighing as she confesses to him. "From all you've said, I'm getting that he's a little power hungry, Matt.. I've got this gut feeling he's going to use me as bait for Kira."

Matt chuckles at her, rolling his eyes because the idea is completely ridiculous. "Nah, he's just got an inferiority complex. And he's not that drastic, Hex. He's got a sense of morality- he won't resort to something _that _low." When she still looks less than convinced, Matt gives her a crooked smile. "I'm not just being optimistic. Seriously, I _know _Mello."

Hex looks visibly annoyed. "He's not some special case, Matt. He's just like every other person on this planet, no matter how well he hides it. Two-faced, selfish, greedy, _always_ after something better. You don't know people like I do."

"Stop sounding so jaded," he tells her, running fingers through his hair. "Loosen up. Mello's a good guy, I _swear_. He _cares."_

Hex narrows her eyes at him and quickly looks away. "I _still _don't trust him."

* * *

TBC

* * *

_A/N: Maybe I'm biased, but I thought this was horrible. _T-T _Ahem, so here's my portrayal of Matt- love him? Hate him? 'Cause uh, I guess he'll be making more appearances now, and Near too. So Matt's the mystery dude from chapter one.. Was anyone expecting anyone else? Mello didn't make an appearance here, but hey, he got mentioned a lot, huh?_

_Also.. from the last chapter; did no one catch who Jose was? He really was in the manga/anime, had this role with Mello, but I've said too much already. ;) Comments, ideas and constructive criticism are very much welcome. *coughs coughs* _

_A very special thanks to:  
_CocoBunni96 _(Thank you! :D Hope this update did good.)  
_C. Holywell-Black _(Thanks! I wasn't aware she had a conscience until last chapter :P; Hex can't be too cocky, you know. You'll be pleased to know I've got the next chapter totally written already- I'm giddy about it. ;D)  
_Kira the Wolf _(I thought she needed some empathy, and I made her cry. :P I FAIL haha, but I'm glad you enjoyed the last update. Having Mello walk away was hard- methinks he has a soft spot for her. :3 And thanks!)  
_ChicalaMoya _(Thanks! Haha, glad that Hex is connecting with someone :) And Wedy? She's one of my favourite characters in DN- had to do her some justice, y'know. Hope you liked how I portrayed Matt and Near! :D)  
_Overboard343 _(Thanks! Haha, I'm glad you're really liking the turn of events. :) Even if Mello has no idea how to handle Hex.. or _does _he? *eyebrow waggle* haha, hope you enjoyed this update. :)) _

_Preview:_

Hex is well aware she's a liar. She's acting almost as if the tension is imaginary, like she never did break like she did. So _easily. _Hex watches as confusion and irritation dance behind his orbs now, but he plays along, just a bit. From the vanity, Mello's reflection seems to only come closer. Then he says, "You never did answer my question."

She barely stops herself from tensing as she feels him press against her back suddenly, not overbearingly, just so strangely tender it unnerves her. Hex keeps her gaze to the mirror, pulling at her hair viciously to remind herself to keep her façade intact. "I never had the intention to," she replies, but her words die slowly as she feels his heart beating erratically.

Mello's making it a point not to look at her.

_Mister review is telling you to push his buttons. :D_


	10. Nine

A/N: Back to school. *is angry* Sorry for the late update.

* * *

_-  
-AdRenaline  
_U  
S  
h

_I wanted to know who you really are.  
I needed the chance to stitch up my scars.  
I'm closer to you than I was in the start  
Come dive right in and tear me apart.  
- Unstable, _Adema.

_Chapter Nine_

Midnight comes and midnight goes so quick he misses it entirely. Wind, hard and cold, blows against him as he races no one on this winding road. He is in the middle of nowhere, and the lights of Los Angeles are slowly fading away behind him. No other source of light now but the one bleeding from the headlight of his motorcycle, but Mello isn't worried in the least. He has long since memorized the road to the mafia base_*_.

He tightens his grip on the handlebar, leaning forward ever so slightly as he picks up his speed. Ninety three miles per hour now, but somehow, he still thinks he is moving too slowly. The surge of adrenaline he gets while biking is unusually absent, and he feels strangely… tired. He feels himself lulling to sleep, eyes blinking slowly before they attempt to close a little longer.

Mello jolts, shaking his head a little to fight off the vestiges of sleep. He grits his teeth together and inwardly curses. Almost four days without any sort of rest or sleep, and it is already taking a toll on him. Mello feels a weight pressing on his shoulders, a sort of tiredness that makes him heavy and sluggish in his movements. Mello is restless, and Mello is furious, and Mello is tired.

He is looking for her. Almost four days since their falling out with each other, and he has yet to face her. Mello doesn't understand too well why he has been avoiding her, especially when she is the one at fault here. Perhaps, he simply did not want to deal with her then. Not when he has been doubting if she has already picked herself up completely. Hex, despite her brash and callous demeanor, can be quite driven by her own emotions.

Like Mello.

And that is why he thinks he can read her, to an extent. He understands that she had pulled the trigger on Jose because she had lost her temper. In all honesty, Mello doesn't mind too much about Jose's fate. He had been bothering Mello constantly, and he was proving to be nothing but a liability. A thorn on his side. Either way, Hex has done nothing detrimental to Mello's plans. So long as he keeps her in line, so long as she is of use to him, Mello will not stop her from much.

Though unnerving her total disregard for murder may be, Mello has other more pressing matters at hand. He thinks Hex a liar for telling him she does not care at all, for preaching how it does not matter when she began crying like she did. Apparently, Hex's lack of empathy had been nothing more than an act that Mello had bought.

He wonders what else she had lied about. He is furious just thinking of the endless possibilities.

Her acceptance for death? Her love for taking risks? Her thrill for adrenaline? But those are only technicalities that do not matter. Hex is a _liar, _and a flawless one at that. Mello is not so sure he will be able to discern truth from lies from her. Mello thinks he can no longer trust her until she lets loose and spills.

Mello thinks, after all this time, they've accomplished nothing with each other. He knows he is using her, and lying to her as well, but for Hex to return the same act he's been feeding is nothing short of irritating. He's been talking with her, laughing, joking with her. _Killing _with her, and yet, she remains a total stranger.

Fuck it all.

He will face her today, no matter what.

* * *

"It's not your shift."

Mello violently breaks off his dark chocolate, silencing Jack with one of his darker glares. "You think I don't fucking know that?" They are walking down the winding hallway, passing too many lights and doors- none of which Mello is looking for. "If it's your job to keep a lookout, why are you here, tailing after me like some kind of pup?"

It is a rhetorical question, one that comes with more than just a hint of warning. Mello is already too impatient to deal with Jack's pestering. Mello is well aware of this man's irrational dislike of him, and frankly, he thinks his subordinate is antagonizing him on purpose. He fights the urge to roll his eyes, taking larger strides to pick up his speed.

"Protocol," Jack makes an excuse, but Mello knows that the man is only curious. "I'd be off your ass if you'd just state your business."

The teen hardens his glare. He crumples the candy wrapper in his gloved fist, and throws it casually onto Jack's face. The man freezes in apprehension; Mello's rage is nothing if not notorious with the mafia. "Oh, really?" He pretends to question. Mello's tone is ice, fingers twitching for something to break. "_I'd _be off your _neck, _if you'd just go back to your business."

He backs off, thankfully. Jack takes a step backward to create some space between them. He slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose, clearing his throat. Mello smirks; pleased that he is already reminded of whom is the superior here. "Right," Jack relents, and Mello can see how much the man hates him right now. "I'll leave you alone."

"Yes," Mello agrees. "You will."

Jack is gone in three seconds flat, but Mello does not miss the dirty look he sends him. Mello continues in his path, rolling his head to stretch the tired muscles. He briefly wonders if he will be able to corner her in a room, alone. If she is here at all- Mello is more than a little anxious to know.

Although he has an inkling she is here, Mello knows that she could very well be anywhere by now. He has no way to find her anymore; she has long since removed the locating chip off of her person. Mello absolutely abhors having this disadvantage, absolutely _hates _how unpredictable she is sometimes. He _hates _not knowing where she is, because damn it, he has a right to know. And he should _know _her by now, right?

Right?

* * *

The dagger spins idly in her hand.

Hex takes in her own reflection. Uncharacteristically, she wears a dress, vertically streaked with black and white. Hanging from the collar is a pair of dark sunglasses, not unlike those which Wedy used to wear. Her eyes travel to her head of white-blond hair, trailing down to the base of her spine in tangled waves.

'_Do it', _half her head whispers. '_You wanted this.'_

She _wanted _this, but now? Hex cannot find the answer. Too many thoughts are brewing a violent storm in the recesses of her mind, and the fact that she is already suffering delusions_*_ is not helping her any. She cannot make a sound decision anymore, because she is edgy and she is pissed and she is just so fucking confused.

This isn't at all about taking a risk. Risks are easier, because she can always start over or try again if she messes up. Risks are more spur of the moment, because she hates thinking things through. And that is exactly what she has been doing, _is _doing. She's about to make one of the hardest decisions in her life, and Hex is terrified that she end up regretting her choice.

Because there will be _no _going back. _No _starting over. Or rather, she won't allow herself to do any of that.

If Hex decides to just do it, she will have to lose herself, forget the alias, the name she's learned to adapt to. She will become _Wedy, _through and through. And if she doesn't do it? Hex thinks Wedy will be more than disappointed with her. Hex thinks she will be disappointed with herself.

Because she grew up with the idea of succeeding Aiber and Wedy. She learned _everything _from them- lying, stealing, poisoning, killing. She was only a kid, and so ready to forget that fact. Hex just wanted their recognition, and they provided it each time she pleased them. They took her in and cared for her, they fed her and taught her, they _loved _her. And that is all she ever wanted.

Now? Hex only feels that succeeding them is an obligation she must make.

Resolved with the thought, she raises the dagger to her line of sight, bunching up random locks of her hair in her other fist. Hex _will _do this. She brings the dagger through her hair, shearing it jaggedly. The discarded strands twist and fall heavily onto the floor around her, and she doesn't care. Hex only hacks off the longer pieces until she is satisfied. Until she can no longer recognize herself.

Hex is really should not be Hex anymore, anyway.

"What the fuck are you doing?" a voice rings sharp in her ears from the doorway. Being caught off guard, she jumps, tightening her hold on the dagger so drastically her knuckles turn pale white. She looks in the mirror and sees Mello glaring at her furiously, slamming the door behind him so violently the overhead light swings slightly.

She forces herself to relax. She rolls her shoulders casually, loosening the grip on the weapon. "It's about time I got a haircut," she giggles charismatically, lying through her teeth easily. "Been a while since I last saw you, Melly-bean. What's up?"

Mello does not look too convinced. "Drop it," he commands, eyes narrowed suspiciously as he watches her. Rolling her eyes, she drops the dagger with a grin- she is done with her transformation anyway. Mello takes three steps further into the room, his regular scowl on his lips. Mello isn't pleased, but that is nothing new. "I wasn't talking about the fucking knife-"

"It's a dagger."

"I don't _care_," Mello tells her roughly, and then he takes in a long breath and closes his eyes. She recognizes this one of the anger management techniques in her full-of-bullshit book. She wonders what is on his mind to want to want to be so level-headed or less angry, in Mello's case, as he speaks with her. And then, she wonders if she really wants to know. "We need to talk."

She quirks a delicate eyebrow upwards. "We're talking now, aren't we?" She is challenging him, and she knows Mello knows it. Testing his patience, because she simply _loves _the way he reacts to certain things she say. She sets every one of his nerves ablaze so he will speak irrationally, so he will forget all he wants to say. So he will be blinded by rage.

She has always loved mind mumbo-jumbo and psychology.

"Don't give me that, Hex," he tells her. "You know what I mean, so quit acting like you don't."

She dons one of her wider grins, as fake as she can get, but she executes it flawlessly. He buys her show of amusement and grits his teeth together. Looking a little deranged, her green eyes show nothing of her vehemence as her tone takes a deadlier edge. "If you so insist." She continues before Mello can speak. "I'll talk. _First,_ I'm not Hex anymore, so stop calling me that. Second, _don't_ tell me otherwise. I'm Wedy, damn it. Third? Get over you and your problem with me killing Jose."

"I don't care who the hell you say you are- I say you're _Hex._"

Her hands ball into tight fists. "You don't tell me what to do. I thought I told you that-"

"Shut _up!" _Mello hisses, already riling up because she does it so well. But she is also baring her teeth, getting frustrated. "I'm trying to do this right, okay?"

She glares at him defiantly. "_Trying _isn't good enough."

"_Shut up!" _he tells her. "Why can't you do as you're told for once?"

"Because I don't _like _you!" A total lie. "I got you in the mafia because I was selfish, okay? I thought it'd be fun, and I was bored and you were easy to mess with. I didn't do it because I fucking liked you enough to care. I thought this was strictly professional, and now I'm-" She pauses, catching herself, and biting her lip painfully because thinks she will let every word flow right out of her mouth like a river if she doesn't. She has already said enough, she thinks. More than enough.

Mello looks genuinely curious, if not a little apprehensive. His anger is lost after another moment of quiet, and she thinks the soundlessness is so deafening, ringing in her ears. As he speaks, his words are quiet and calm. Completely terrifying her, her heart starts hammering in her chest. "You're what?"

"It doesn't matter," she tells him with a faux smirk, trying to uplift the mood to make him forget what she's said. She starts humming a song, running fingers through her hair gently to groom the snarls and knots, the stray strands of her she's cut off. In the mirror, she watches him discreetly as he shakes his head, sighing.

Hex is well aware she's a liar. She's acting almost as if the tension is imaginary, like she never did break like she did. So _easily._Hex watches as confusion and irritation dance behind his orbs now, but he plays along, just a bit. From the vanity, Mello's reflection seems to only come closer. Then he says, "You never did answer my question."

She barely stops herself from tensing as she feels him press against her back suddenly, not overbearingly; just so strangely tender it unnerves her. Hex keeps her gaze to the mirror, pulling at her hair viciously to remind herself to keep her façade intact. "I never had the intention to," she replies, but her words die slowly as she feels his heart beating erratically.

Mello's making it a point not to look at her.

Silence, so tense, Hex thinks she can't breathe right. Her throat feels constricted, and this becomes one of the rarer times she can't find the words to say. Her thoughts are nonsensical, brain frazzled with _Mello, Mello, Mello, _and she realizes belatedly, she can hear her own heart pumping in her ears. Something courses within her, a completely foreign, yet familiar sensation that isn't too welcome. So strange, but she thinks she knows exactly what this is. This is something like-

Something else. Something scary. Something like_ admiration, or love. _Total bullshit.

_And now I'm in love with you, _she's almost said. That fucking emotion she promised to swear off until the day she dies, but somehow, Mello has weaved himself into her heartstrings. She wants to rip him right out of there- he doesn't belong! She wants him to stop, but what? She doesn't know. She only knows that she cannot trust him at all.

Consumed with the feeling of anticipation of betrayal*, Hex is, but she has a feeling that Mello will not disappoint. She has a feeling he has hidden intentions to get her trust, to _use _her, or maybe she is just so paranoid. After all, why else would he pretend to _care _or _worry _or show fucking concern like he does? Mello is going to betray her, hurt her, turn his back on her.

Just like almost everyone else she's ever known.

Hex hates love more than anything that ever existed in life.

"Why does it matter to you, Mello?"

"It should matter to someone," he says simply, like the sentence itself is a fact of life. Hex doesn't really want to know. There is another moment of quiet where he turns his head to face her reflection in the mirror, and Hex does not know if he likes what he sees, because Hex really doesn't. Wedy isn't who she sees in the mirror anymore, like she did mere minutes before.

She sees _herself_ once again, because despite her intentions, she has somehow gone back to being Hex. Not Wedy.

"I thought this was strictly professional," she says softly, so quietly, "and now I'm-" She looks straight into his eyes and lies outright, because he _cannot _know. "-confused. You're still sticking with me, even after we've gotten you what you wanted. I don't know if you're just keeping me with you because you want to use me… Are you?"

He smiles crookedly. "You're here with me just because, Hex."

Despite half her mind screaming to pull away, screaming that he is lying, she leans into him, and believes him, if only just a little.

And she smiles.

* * *

TBC

* * *

_A/N: Okay, I had written this around twelve different drafts for this chapter, and I've only decided to use the fourth draft I wrote for this chapter. Does this chapter make any sense? Oh, by the way, Mello was lying when he said "just because". He's using her and you know it. Mello's a greater liar than he lets on._

_And the asterisks were totally intentional. I needed to explain a few things:_

*Mafia base: _I've set it up underground in the middle of nowhere._

*Delusions: _Research proves that if an individual has gone without sleep for too long, the person will suffer delusions and will have poor judgment, among other things. Hex is a self-induced insomniac, as mentioned in chapter 1._

*Anticipating betrayal and lack of trust: _Hex has a reason for these things, involving her childhood. But that'll be explained in a later chapter. Although research suggests that these are signs of a Paranoia Personality, Hex is not diagnosed with it. She's just being difficult._

_I love research. It gets me excited. :D_

_A special thanks to:  
_Kira the Wolf: _Thank you! :) Hope this update did good.  
_Echo1317: _Thanks so much! haha, I've got hell and some good stuff in store for Mello and Hex (glad to know you like her). _  
Overboard343: _Mattie-boy is an unoriginal nickname haha, but I had to use it. ;) I like Matt's character- the wonders you can do with a minor character._  
PocketfullaMisery: _I noticed you changed your penname. (y) I'm a Near fan, but just a minor one. Mostly because I have this fascination with his puppets and hair. :P Thanks for liking how I portrayed Matt. :D  
_C. Holywell-Black: _I'm guilty for spilling drama all over this chapter. I'm amazed you noticed my intention of making Matt a living contradiction-I love characterization. :D Matt's smoother with Hex than Mello is because Mello and Hex have tempers and… well, because… *murmurs something incomprehensible*:D  
_

* * *

Uh, no preview available. . Sorry, guys. My muse is kind of slow this time.

_Review, please! :)_


	11. Ten

_A/N: This is set sometime in June or July 2006, almost two years since L's death in the manga._

_

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_

_-  
-AdRenaline  
_U  
S  
h

_May I hold you  
__as you fall to sleep,  
__when the world is closing in  
__and you can't breathe.  
__May I love you.  
__May I be your shield.  
__When no one can be found  
__may I lay you down.  
_- _May I, _Trading Yesterday

_Chapter Ten_

Mello rarely sleeps now. Burning daylight just contemplating and planning, and burning moonlight sitting on a worn little threadbare sofa. Just thinking too much. The living room has turned into something like his unofficial workspace. There are documents scattering the low table, the floor, papers spreading across a five foot radius around him. Although his eyes are burning for sleep, and Mello's head hurts like hell, he can't stop now.

He is thinking three steps ahead, plans that will, that _must_ go against all Near will possibly have in his mind. Mello wants to be ready to expect the unexpected, to be able to adapt quickly and make things work to his advantage. Being familiar with Kira's case will ease off some of his burdens, but he knows he is getting nowhere. He hasn't a lead, and that, he knows, is the main reason he's been drawing blanks.

Mello's shoulders are tense and stiff. He shakes his head every so often to banish the vestiges of sleep. The urge grows in persistence as the minutes pass. His eyes are bloodshot and wild, caffeine, chocolate and vodka strong in his system to force a state of awareness, but they can only do so much. He runs his palm down his face, stifling a yawn.

"You're still at it," Hex's voice suddenly sounds in the room, sounding dubious and disapproving. He jolts slightly, startled by her. He's grown accustomed to barely hearing the sound of her footfalls, but he thinks he should have heard the door open. Did it? Mello doesn't remember.

He eyes her as she comes towards him. Hex is scrutinizing him carefully, studying every detail of his features with sleepless eyes that match his own. But this almost concerned expression disappears from her face too quickly, replaced by one smug, self-satisfied grin. "What?" she asks him, sensing his unabashed stare. "Missed me already?"

Mello snorts softly. "You only wish I did."

Sliding Mello's papers off of the arm of the couch haphazardly, she drapes her coat over it, enjoying the sight of Mello's defined scowl. Hex rolls her eyes. "I've been gone for three days, Melly-bean. A little '_welcome back, Hex_' would be kind of nice, you know."

"You haven't been gone this long," Mello admits with slight hesitation. He does not say aloud how quiet is has been during her absence, how lifeless the apartment has been. "I suppose you've been busy?"She sinks into the loveseat across him with a contented sigh, stretching and sprawling on it like a lazy cat. Her smile never falters. Whatever has gotten her in such a good mood –or as good as her mood ever gets these days, a sour part of Mello thinks- should keep her like this.

It's been too long since she's smiled so freely.

"Pretty much. Ross assigned me another one of his odd jobs, this time, thankfully, something a little more down _my _lane." She sends him a toothy grin, flashing pearly whites. "I was beginning to think Ross was insulting my abilities." She retrieves a silver microchip encased in a clear silicon container from the hidden compartment of the heel of her boot. "I don't really care why Ross sent me after this thing- I hate details. It was something about funding and hackers.

"Yeah?"

Dropping the case onto the empty seat beside her, she nods vigorously, passionately. "Uh huh. So, I broke into this corporation full of nerdy legal hackers, and I found out that this chip was heavily guarded." She rolls her eyes, as if unimpressed by the security she's broken into. "Didn't take me long to get sick of waiting for an opening to steal it, so I fired up a gun." She grins, ignoring Mello's comment of _'of course you did'_. "… Which eventually ended up with me obliterating the place with bombs. At least I eliminated the possibility of being tracked by them, eh?"

Mello shakes his head, indifferent to her tale. "Sure."

Hex pouts, leaning forward closer to him. "Melly-_bean! _Where the heck is your enthusiasm?"

"Saved up for something a little more exciting," he tells her with a smirk. "We already know you like finishing your jobs with a little flair- it gets kind of old after a while."

"Puh-_lease,_" she huffs indignantly, but her eyes are still gleaming good-naturedly. "I'm not as predictable as you are, mister Willy Wonka." She looks pointedly to the half-eaten bar of chocolate on the table. She swings her feet to the arm of the loveseat in a swift motion. "But anyway, Ross called me just an hour ago. He wants me to tell you that he's approved of our request for appointing this first rate hacker."

"I suppose you chose not to mention that I had no part in the request," he makes quotation marks in the air. "'we' made."

She snickers, totally unashamed that she has been caught red handed. Hex has not been trying to hide it from him, either way. "What do you take me for?" She pretends to be offended. "I'm a freaking _genius, _Melly-bean!"

He snorts in amusement, his smirk widening into an almost smile. "So who's the hacker, and when'll he get to the base?"

"And _you _told me you knew everything," she tuts at him for his impatience. "Hackers are only associates of the mafia. They don't do face-to-face meetings unless absolutely necessary; anonymity reasons. You won't be seeing the hacker at all, if you want him at the base."

"What are you getting at?" he asks suspiciously.

She blinks at him innocently. "Since I think you would be so insistent on meeting him, I took the liberty of asking Matt to move in with us in two days. You know, so he-"

"Matt?" Mello thinks he has not heard her right. "Matt, as in-"

Hex looks only slightly irritated that she has been cut off from finishing. Retaliating, she finishes his sentence. "Third in line in L's succession, fourth generation. Matt, as in _your _Matt, Melly-bean." She winks suggestively.

"Quit with implying I'm gay," he informs her firmly, just so she will quit with the jokes already. Ever since his wearing of leather, and his defense for Jose's life, Hex has been poking at Mello about it. "And how the hell do you know if Matt wants a part in this?"

She grins mischievously. "I have my sources."

Mello deadpans, "You contacted him."

Hex sniffs. "Sometimes, I wish you were a little more fun."

"Sometimes," Mello counters, "I wish you think through things a little more."

Though a hacker of Matt's caliber is rare, and though Matt's abilities may prove to contribute to solving the Kira case, Mello's truth only spreads like a tiny spring; it can recoil so easily. After all, he has not seen Matt for almost as long as two years. Who knows, if Matt is already backing Near up for the case? As unlikely as the notion may be, there still might be a chance. What if this alliance between Matt and the mafia is simply a way to keep tabs on him for Near?

But Matt, despite their lack of contact, is still his best friend. Matt is a person he confides in, because Matt is a better listener than a speaker. Matt follows orders if they are just, and Mello is all but just, right? Mello also knows that Matt is nothing if not loyal, and he has been a loyal friend to Mello for _years. _Though Hex is excellent company, he misses Matt. (But of course, he does not say this aloud either.)

"Think _shmink,_" she waves a hand childishly, pulling him out of his thoughts. She dismisses his suggestion without even considering it. "Don't offend me. I mean, I've been thinking with my guts for years and things have been turning out _fine_. That should count for something."

"And what would that be?"

Hex spares him a mildly irritated look, hating his stubborn refusal to just accept what she's done for them both. "At least I'm being productive. Personally, I think you're just jealous that my butt isn't glued to a chair like yours is."

"I compensate for it," Mello counters, humoring her subject by cozying himself on the couch. "At least I'm thinking through things instead of just making things up as I go halfway, like you seem so fond of doing."

"Naw," she snickers humorously, waving her hand in exaggerated motions. "You give me too much credit, Melly-bean. Didn't I tell you? I make things up all the way." She grins. "All your incessant planning will kill your brain cells. You've got to let yourself go sometimes, you know…Try and learn to live in the moment without worrying; you can do that _later."_

Mello lets his back mold into the seat, digesting her words thoughtfully. Her points are valid, but there are too many flaws to consider. Hex is too reckless whenever it comes to self preservation, too uncaring of whether she will live or die. Too ready to give up. Mello hates knowing that she will, if it comes to it. "And suppose later, I realize I've made a fatal mistake?" he shoots back.

She gives him a one-shouldered shrug. "So you've lived a good life. Things get out of hand sometimes, but when they do, try and take stride in it instead of worrying. It's better than living with planning and paranoia, and then suddenly die either way. Like all the measures you've taken for your safety was all for nothing… We'll be murdered eventually, given our professions, so get over it. It's just a waste of time. It's a disappointment."

He knows, subtly, she is referring to L, one of the only people Mello's ever cared for. The title _L_ is Mello's _life, _and Hex is tearing that image down to their level of unimportance. Like L isn't so different from them. She might as well be right. L, spending an entire lifetime hiding behind a synthetic voice and letter, living in the shadows but always had been watching your every move.

Dying behind a synthetic voice and letter that can be so _easily _duplicated, forged, faked. All those unaware will not even miss L… Mello recalls how Roger has told him how L is dead. And L is dead, when he's sworn to solve the case. What happened to _justice will prevail? _Mello still wants to know. Where is justice with Kira?

Simple: there isn't.

"So you'd rather give up, and not fight for what you want? What if the paranoia's all worth it?" he questions with a tone of forced indifference. "Doesn't that make you coward, Hex: quitting?"

She frowns faintly, pulling off her gloves and she begins slowly massaging her palms. Mello sees that they are red from sustained pressure or use, swollen from having been strained too much, but he question. "I don't do things without a fight Mello, but even I have my limits… Quitting doesn't make anyone a coward," she murmurs, cocking her head aside curiously. "Does it?"

Tearing his eyes away from her, back to his papers, Mello thinks not to answer.

* * *

A silence blankets them as they contemplate. A thoughtful look crosses his features, leather clad fingers drumming against the surface of the low table. Mello glances at her once more before looking back to his papers, reading through each sheet quickly, but thoroughly, as if ready to just forget this debate between them. Neither will address the other's flaws and rights.

Hex decides to break the silence first. Of course. She is too impetuous. "What are you looking for, exactly?" She says this as she reads _'Reporters question: Where is L?'_ of one of the many papers upside down, changing the subject effectively.

Mello doesn't look away from the sheet in his hand. "I've been comparing the rates of heart attacks worldwide. The death toll is Japan is significantly higher than in other countries- I'm assuming Kira resides there. I just need to know _where _exactly."

Hex looks at him quizzically. "And you didn't think you could've just asked me?"

She _was _still training under Aiber and Wedy before L called, after all. She thinks Mello should have realized by now, that she knows all there is necessary to know about them, even all the places and locations they have ever been at. Hex remembers so clearly, how ready they have been to simply leave her in a hotel room in New York, thrusting a bagged two million in her hands and expecting her to know what to do with herself. Hex had felt so stupid then.

"_L called,_" Aiber's cool voice still rings in her ears. She remembers how he strode right into the hotel room, carry case ready in hand. It had been the first time she had seen him in two weeks, and already, he was going to leave again, only this time, not alone. _"He wants our assistance in the Kira investigation." _

And she recalls Wedy sighing in frustration, but packing up her things already. Because this was _L _they were about to help, and they would help him without question. L keeps track of all the crimes they have committed after all, and it wouldn't do for them to oppose to his requests too regularly. All the evidence (made up or otherwise) L had gathered was enough to keep them in prison for life. Because while Wedy and Aiber were working for L, they were still criminals, above all else.

When they left, Hex finally had a gun in her hands, and no one was going to stop her from anything. (_"You'll be fine!" _Aiber had said. _"We'll be back before long,_" Wedy had said.) But Hex is growing up without them just fine now. Shaking off her thoughts, and falling back to the present, Hex answers. "Kira's in Kanto."

Mello grits his teeth in aggravation, locking his eyes with hers. They are screaming his fatigue, and Hex contemplates just knocking him out so he will sleep a little. "Why the hell didn't you just tell me?"

"How was I supposed to know you didn't know that? Doesn't L ever tell you successors _anything_?" she raises an eyebrow at him daringly, sounding so innocent with her words. Hex honestly isn't so surprised that L has told his successors nothing- Aiber's told her, L has never been one to burden others with worries. "Either way, it's not like you even asked."

"That's not an excuse."

She grins. "But I'm right."

He rolls his eyes at her, shoving away a half of the papers Hex assumes is about Kira's whereabouts. He won't need them anymore, now she has disclosed that piece of information . "Anything else you might want to tell me?" Mello looks like a child; eager for anything else he can learn.

She puts a finger to her lower lip, thinking of anything else that might be worth mentioning. While Hex has little to no interest in solving the case, like Mello seems to obsessively have, she _does_ want her mentors avenged. Hex guesses by telling all she knows, months of research and investigating would be killed, and they will be closer to their goal than before.

Mello will probably like getting the upper hand over Near anyway. Maybe enough for him to be in a better mood, to want to rest tonight.

"Both Wedy and Aiber were involved in the capture of the third Kira-"

"There were _three?_" Mello asks incredulously, eyes widening. "There hasn't-"

She pouts, brow furrowing angrily and she snaps at him. "Don't _interrupt _me, Melly-bean, or I'll shut up." That effectively quiets him, if only for the moment. Hex smirks now, amused at his rare, easy compliance. "Yeah, three, but that was two years ago- I don't know how many there are now…" she pauses thoughtfully. "So, the third Kira was a dude in the Yotsuma…

"Yotsuba," Mello corrects hastily, ignoring her slight glare.

"_Whatever_," she exaggerates the word. "It was a corporation, and there was this guy called Higuchi." Mello starts to search through an untouched stack of papers for that information. She stops him. "L made sure that the media knows nothing about the case _or _Higuchi, other than the fact he was Kira."

Wedy has told her all this; she believed Hex has had a right to know. Aiber disagreed to that, and preferred keeping tight-lidded as not to worry Hex, but she has never liked being out of the loop for anything. Shaking her head, she thinks hard about the last things she remembers Wedy telling her. "Wedy said something about a notebook. Higuchi had it with him the night he was murdered."

Mello looks confused. She can't blame him at all, because it sounds ridiculous, even for her. "What does a notebook have to do with Kira?" he questions, the same question imprinted in her mind.

"Heck if I know," she says. "But Wedy said it was called a Death Note. She said Higuchi used it as a sort of weapon, said it had a power or something." She mentally kicks herself for sounding so incompetent and stupid. "Wedy didn't elaborate- L didn't approve of her telling me those things as it was. Seriously, I don't blame him; it sounds like garbage."

"A Death Note," Mello wonders breathlessly, sounding excited, enthralled, and a genuine smile finds his lips. He reaches for his laptop on the table, brimming with excitement. In an immediate show of enthusiasm, he looks at her with wild eyes. "Hex, don't you see? The Death Note is what Kira uses to kill!"

She is already in front of him, palm placed on the top of the laptop so he is unable to switch it on. "Jumping to conclusions already, Melly-bean?" Hex smirks in amusement. "I'm liking your attitude already."

"No, no," he shakes his head wildly, insistent. He looks pretty psyched out by all she's told him, like he's ready to take on anything. Still, Mello looks dead on his feet, and she thinks if he keeps at it without any sort of rest soon, he'll crash. "Don't you get it, Hex? Kira's _'power' _derives from the Death Note. If we can obtain it, we'll-"

"Do it, but we'll do it some other time," Hex clicks her tongue, pulling the laptop away from him with slight trouble. "Melly-bean, it's four in the morning. You're about to pass out. You need to-"

Mello protests. "I'm fine. Hex, we've got a _lead! _We can't stop now!"

"_Yes, _we can," she says through her teeth, reminding herself to keep her temper in check. She grips the device tight in her hands. "If you don't get up off your ass and go to bed, I'll break this thing into pieces." It isn't an empty threat, she knows he realizes. Hex is all too aware of the information of valuable contacts, relevant documents and files kept in the laptop, but if he doesn't take the initiative to listen to her _now,_ then it's his sorry loss.

He tries to stare her down with a dark look in his eyes. Mello sets his jaw, brows furrowed in frustration. Then, finally, a grudging, _"Fine,_" is spat out. Hex watches him for a moment, just to clarify if he will go against his own word. There is none she finds. Satisfied, she sets the laptop down onto the table and grabs his arm instead.

Before he can say another word, she already has his arm in an iron grip. She tugs him into the bedroom, a distasteful scowl still worn on her lips. Pushing him roughly to sit on the bed, she warns him. "Try anything funny, and I'll slap you. Seriously." She turns on her heel and marches into the kitchen, but not before she hears Mello ask what she intends to do.

Hex keeps silent. Stonily keeping her back covering his view of her doings. Hex pulls a bag of pills from the kitchen drawer and begins to crush one as the hot water boils. She fixes hot chocolate for two, proceeding to pour the powdery residue of pills in one large mug. Looking over her shoulder, she sees that across the corridor, Mello is still unmoving on the bed.

She quells the bubbling feeling of guilt in her ribcage.

Hex retreats into the room shoving Mello's drink in his hands. Mello doesn't suspect. He downs the hot chocolate in large gulps, hardly caring that the liquid is maybe scalding his tongue. Hex scoffs, sipping her own untainted drink slowly. "Melly-bean, Don't think I'll be doing any of this crap for you again too soon; I spoil you too much already."

She is simply watching him.

It only takes mere minutes for Mello's eyes to blearily peer at her, half-lidded and drowsy. Hex thinks it will be before long until he falls asleep. "You… You drugged me?" Hex isn't surprised he already realizes, albeit belatedly; he isn't a genius for nothing. He is fighting a losing battle for consciousness, mind sleepier than ever, she knows. His thoughts are slowly going sluggish, and Hex has no doubt he will forget her slipping him a pill tomorrow morning.

"It's a sleeping pill, Mello," she murmurs. "You wouldn't have gone to sleep otherwise."

"I hate you," is the last thing he says for the night. He slowly lies himself down onto the bed, closing his eyes slowly. It isn't too long before she hears his soft snoring and deep breathing- Mello must be almost too tired. Hex thinks he will have a dreamless sleep tonight.

Hex snorts softly, not at all believing him. "I love you too."

* * *

TBC

* * *

_Hex's sudden niceness is a product of her 'manning up' (That sounded weird, haha), or maybe she's plotting something. . Before I forget, Mello and Hex have an apartment they stay in- they don't trust the mafia enough to sleep there. Ahem, comments and constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated._

_A special thanks to the reviewers:  
_C. Holywell-Black: _Thank you! :D This chapter was a little on the fluffy side, but knowing me, it won't stick long. *cackles* The tension will return with a vengeance.  
_Overboard 343: _I don't like Jack much either, but he's going to have a role. Someone shoot me for that, haha. I'm saying nothing about the romance just yet. ;D  
_PocketfullaMisery: _I feel kind of bad for Hex, for having Mello lie to her. Geez, the characters end up writing themselves sometimes. Hex and Mello don't seem to like getting along, do they? :P Still, I guess you could say they almost got along in this chapter, eh?_

* * *

_Preview:_

_The teen looks at him through his gold goggled eyes, leather gloved hands shoved protectively into the front pockets of his baggy jeans. Matt's hair is in wild disarray, tousled by the wind. He smiles uncomfortably, but warmly, and teases him. "Come on, Mels. You can't say you aren't glad to see me, can you?"  
_

Review if you think Mello makes leather look sexier. :D


	12. Eleven

_A/N: I drew Hex! :D http : / / letsexplode15 . deviantart . com / art / Hex-182409202 (but yeah, without the spaces) Click it click it click it click it, please?_

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_-  
-AdRenaline  
_U  
S  
h

_Well I won't be the one to disappoint you, anymore  
And I know I said all this so that you heard it all before  
The trick is getting you to think that all this is your idea  
And that it is everything you've ever wanted out of here._  
- _Love's Not a Competition (but I'm winning), _Paramore

_Chapter Eleven_

Even through the thick barrier of clear gold plastic, his eyes are stinging painfully at the brightness of day. Matt supposes he has brought this upon himself, having confined himself in a room -pitch black save for the multi-coloured pixels of his television set and game station- for over a week straight. Damn, his so-called reliable companion, a _dog_ died because of his neglect. He would've done worse had he gone longer than that, possibly, if he hadn't been kicked out this morning. If Hex hadn't interrupted him when she did.

"_So pack up your things and haul your ass over here," _over the phone, she's said, so self-assured and cheeky. _"And don't worry about Mello- he's fine with it." _Honestly, Matt doubts she's even mentioned anything about him being recruited as a mafia associate, or his intentions on permanently crashing with them until after a little too late. It has negligible significance when or how she says it, he knows her enough to guess her moves. She is likely to rely solely on her supposed charm on Mello to let him allow Matt, albeit grudgingly, to stay.

Or maybe, Mello just doesn't care about Matt anymore.

Matt doesn't know what to make of that. But _if_ Hex has really told Mello about him, then shouldn't have Mello contacted him already? His cell phone is still tucked in the back pocket of his jeans for easy reach. Just in case Mello tells him he can't come, and to just go away and leave them the fuck alone. It doesn't matter so much that Mello has been his best friend. It's been two years, and Matt knows how the time span is more than enough for people to change. Matt knows how sometimes, you can't even recognize the person you knew before anymore. Will he have to feign indifference to the blond?

So he is all but edgy this afternoon. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he thinks, shoulders hunched, back slouching, thumbs pocketed in his jeans. He is scowling deeply. People spare curious glances at him as he passes them, mostly flirtatious girls in their teens, or little children who say "Mommy, it's the _hamburglar!" _but Matt pays them no mind.

He tries not to listen to the cheerful bird songs above him, the honking of cars around him, the chatter of people. Matt tries not to see the bright, colorful, and nauseating outdoors. It is harder than he first thought. The sun is a constant reminder of where he is_, _and Matt is sick to his stomach. He wants to return to the safety of confinement.

Mello and Hex's apartment is less than a block away, while his own already far enough that he doesn't want to turn back. He will have to face Mello, or face another two hours of a bus rides and endless walking. He almost chooses the latter option, but stops himself when he remembers how brutal the past months have been.

Disregarding the facts that he's got enough cash from hacking to feed an army, and that he's erased his entire existence so thoroughly that no one, not even Near will track him, Matt has been lonely. It is pathetic, the silent admission, but he is only human. He cannot help but miss conversation and laughter, interaction and trust. Things that technology or video games can hardly ever provide for him.

He just misses not being alone.

* * *

"Get the door."

That command is so blatantly given; he is neither surprised nor affected by the irritation that strikes across her features. She looks astutely prim and proper this afternoon (and rather _different, _but Mello is used to this). She wears crystal blue lenses over her irises, eyes lined with liner and heavy mascara. Her cheeks and lips painted a shade complimenting her translucent features. Lips carefully painted crimson, and Mello supposes the blonde wig draped carefully beside him will go with her before she leaves.

The belligerent girl glares at him from the full-length mirror as she ties a black choker to her slender neck. "I'm kind of busy here, lazy ass. _You _get it." Her tone is hurried and frustrated, so Mello decides to just humor her before she shoots something (or someone, say… _him_). Only yesterday, Hex has successfully retrieved Aiber's numbers, pagers and cell phones, and already she has had to deal with a massive torrent of urgent calls, deals, deadlines and demands that Aiber has left for her to handle in his death. Such is the life of a con-artist, apparently.

He briefly contemplates just burning Aiber's cell phones away. He doubts she will miss them too much, even if they _are _the last things she has with her to keep Aiber's memory. She seems to prefer stealing to conning anyway.

Mello pulls himself to stand upright just as the rap at the front door gets louder. While he is already unpleased with having to leave his documents and reports (and Hex, a nasty part of him whispers) for even a second, his head tells him that a short break from work is very much welcome. Having not missed Hex's relieved sigh as she heads into the bedroom, he smirks slightly, amused. It seems he has saved the apartment (and himself) from being a warzone, if only just for the moment.

Glancing at the display monitor, he sees a brunette teen standing hunched, head kept suspiciously down. The way the male holds himself is very familiar to Mello, but he can never be too sure. Matt is arranged to meet them tomorrow, not today, so this man can be anyone. Even if he _is _holding on to large bags that suggest intent on staying somewhere or maybe here. Curiosity alit; Mello unlocks the multitude of chains and locks, and opens the door only wide enough to show his side profile.

Only now, he notices Zakk –one of the few underlings Ross has assigned to 'guard' them from possible 'threats', but Mello solidly believes he is there to make sure they keep their end of the bargain to obtain Kira's power- standing beside the teen. Zakk breaks the silence first, customarily introducing the guest to his superior. "He knows your names- claims to know you. Said his name was Matt."

The name thoroughly captures Mello's attention. He isn't so sure whether her should risk believing Zakk. While Matt may be one of the only people to know of Mello and Hex's existence and pseudo names, there is also a possibility that Matt has laid the information out on someone else, accidentally or not. But what better way to assess the truth then to judge the boy himself?

Without wasting time, Mello studies the stranger. He wears a road kill deerskin vest over a long-sleeved striped shirt, black leather gloves and boots- keys of whatever fashion statement he seems to be trying to make. This Matt must have put on his clothes in the dark or blinded. Mello cannot make out the colour of his eyes, a fact Mello thinks is a sore on his side, for eyes are easily the best defining trait of anyone. A horrible hair-dying job is made of the unkempt mane; dull brown fading to Irish red.

His gut tells him that this man is really Matt. He frowns slightly, weighing the pros and cons of actually believing himself with this.

But then, he speaks. The teen looks at him through his gold goggled eyes, leather gloved hands shoved protectively in the front pockets of his baggy jeans. Matt's hair is in wild disarray, tousled by the wind. He smiles uncomfortably, but warmly, and teases him. "Come on, Mels. You can't say you aren't glad to see me, can you?"

Deeper octave or no, there is no questioning if he knows that voice. Mello tells Zakk to relieve Matt of his bags and to take them inside, then leave as soon as he is done. Mello hardly cares he is being rude. When in the name of chocolate does any mafia superior have to worry about petty things like _manners _to an _underling_? Donning a cool smile, Mello brings himself from his thoughts.

Mello, of course, pretends not to hear Matt in the least, forcing a sort of casualness in his tone. "You were supposed to show up tomorrow, you know that?" He brings a chocolate bar to his lips, breaking off a large chunk between his teeth. And suddenly, Matt does not seem so ill at ease anymore. The familiarity of this action seems to calm the brunette, for some reasons beyond him.

His quick welcoming is not a hundred percent sincere, though. While Mello is personally glad to see his best friend, he has to remain wise of the possible threats Matt may impose. Mello still does not know whether to extend his trust to the boy. Maybe, he can feign indifference, but only for the sake of gaining Matt's trust. Above all else, he needs to confirm whether or not Matt has hidden agendas, or if he's a double agent for Near. And if Matt proves trustworthy? Then, maybe Mello can quit his pretenses.

"I, uh," Matt shifts his weight to one foot, looking to his feet again. "I got kicked out of my apartment this morning- I haven't been paying rent for months." He laughs slightly, Mello isn't so sure if it is forced or not. Matt, like Hex and him, is a talented liar. "Otherwise, I didn't think I would've shown up either."

He chuckles, opening the door wider to allow Matt entry. He spins on his bare heel and heads back to his sofa, but not before sparing a sideling glance in the brunette's direction. Matt's eyes are wandering around the apartment, adapting to his new surroundings with concentration. Mello leans into his sofa and looks around himself.

There is nothing so interesting. The apartment is large, furnished with fancy tables and chairs save for the sofa set that Hex has a tendency to shred with her knives and daggers. No pictures, of course, and no little trinkets to personalize the space. The apartment itself is just for the sake of living somewhere. Curtains are drawn closed, and the only light sources come from the kitchen and the lamp over his current seat, crowded with papers.

"Looks like you've been living in a shell, Mel," Matt comments as he eyes that last detail with clear distaste. "Not that I think you will, but anyone else would've already cracked under all this stupid." He gestures to the plenty stack of papers.

Mello looks indifferent. "Anyone _normal, _maybe. When the hell have we ever been normal?"

"Right now?" the brunette tries with a soft smile. Throwing himself into the couch beside the blond, he makes himself at home, twisting and squirming on the seat until he is comfortable. Mello is grateful for the gesture for more reasons than one. It shows that Matt is still uncaring, unconcerned, and all the while at ease in Mello's presence. That, or Matt has gotten better at pretending. "Yeah, right now. I mean, we're talking, right? That's normal."

"The hell it is," he snorts, smirking slightly. "I haven't seen you for two years, and here I am- some mafia big shot. The badass murderer who used to be some kid at an orphanage who went to church on Sundays. And you?" Mello doesn't even look at him. "You've practically disappeared off the face of the planet till yesterday. And then, suddenly you're some first-rate hacker the FBI, NASA and CIA are after. _Normal_, my _ass_."

Matt rolls his eyes behind his goggles. "I was talking about the conversation. Sure, the topics aren't normal in the least, but the point is that you and me, we're just _talking. _Not like Mello or Matt, but just like two guys talking. It's as normal as it gets, or at least, I think so."

"That was borderline cheesy," Mello quips. "Seriously. Are you sure you're Matt?"

The younger boy chuckles in amusement. "Last I checked, I was. Not so sure about now, though."

"So who are you?"

Matt grins. "I'm anyone I want to be. Seriously, Mel, running away from Wammy's was the best fucking idea I've ever had in my life."

Mello eyes him dubiously. "So you've got guts after all."

He ignores the blond. "I wasn't the only one to run away, but I guess the successors have always had a little special treatment, eh? Roger kept eyes on me like I was some kind of criminal."

The blond furrows his brow as he listens to Matt's tale. "I've always hated the place- it just got worse after L died. When you left, I just didn't think I'd be fun sticking around anymore." Matt shrugs his shoulders just once. "It's like a weight's been lifted off of me."

Mello shakes his head. "Wammy's couldn't have been _that _bad."

He disagrees. "Roger's got more than enough funds to keep the place running, but things were crumbling. Still is crumbling. Nannies, teachers, and staff- they all quit. Students started revolting, cracking, leaving, the others just got kicked out."

"Roger kicked them out?" Mello sounds incredulous, brow rising. "I know he's had problems with kids before, but that's drawing the line."

"Things were getting too out of control," Matt frowns. "He had no choice. Things change, people change."

The blond swings a leg over the arm of the couch, expression thoughtful. Matt is just sitting there, arms folded on his stomach like he does not know what to do with himself. Inwardly, Mello is only agitated by Matt's sudden silence. He thinks Matt is trying to probe if he has changed in any way at all. He thinks Matt is trying to sense whether things are different now, whether they are still best friends or complete strangers.

Mello honestly wishes not to answer these questions, but he knows things have changed. He is changed, still is changing. He's expected it to happen. Thrusting a gun into his hands has never been a good idea, but it has had to be done. He's learned the mind of a criminal, lives it, basks in it, and he's mastered it. He's learned to murder without taking the deaths of his victims too personally. He's learned to be aware, to always suspect, to always be ready for anything. He's learned to grow up the hard way, and there never really is going back to his old innocence.

Sometimes, Mello wakes up proud of himself. And the other times? He can't even recognize himself.

(He wonders if this is how Hex feels each time she sees herself.)

And Matt's hope should be sputtered out like dying cinders. They are too different from each other, and Matt will have to live with Mello until this is all over. They will have to reintroduce themselves; they will learn to be friends again.

Mello sighs, closing his eyes. "Yeah… People change."

* * *

She finds the dynamic duo in the living room (Hex dubs it 'Mello's lair'), speaking words that hardly make sense to her. Things that don't particularly matter, like the smell of ink or the look on Linda and Roger's face when they did so and so. All Hex knows is that they are reminiscing the more innocent days of their lives.

The atmosphere, Hex notices, is lazy and still. Never really having been one for calm, she feels air stifle her, invading her senses, Hex wants to wreak havoc a little. Why reminisce? Why not make new memories? It bothers her. She thinks Mello and Matt should be laughing and joking and playing around- things that she thinks best friends should be doing. Hex doesn't know. Apart from Aiber and Wedy, she has never really had a best friend.

(… Unless she counts Mello, but she doubts he will reciprocate her notion.)

Hex is rather pleased to see Matt (well and not dead) here. She thinks she's saved the poor boy from another year of careless game-playing and unintentional starving, mostly because of his lack of company. That, and the fact that she's been having this ridiculous idea that Mello is already getting tired of her being his sole source of 'friendship', if that is what they had established between them. Either way, she owes Matt. Has she not said she will get him a place with the mafia?

She supposes she will have to speak with them before she leaves. Hex still hasn't greeted Matt properly yet, anyway. Even more so, she does not like the feeling of being left out. So, deciding to break the quiet before she chokes on it, she puts on a cheery façade, donning another one of her cheeky grins. "Matty-boy, you're finally here to save me!" Hex makes a show, pretending to wipe away a bead of sweat from her brow. "I didn't know how much longer I could put up with," she looks pointedly at Mello, "_… him."_

While Matt does, Mello doesn't jump at her sudden appearance; he knows her to appear at sporadic moments of time. Matt looks pleasantly surprised by her, and decides to play along. "Anything for you, dear damsel," he says courteously, bowing his head at her modestly. "I will have this foul beast thoroughly slain for you soon enough. Shall we ride off into the sunset after?"

"This foul beast hates you two," Mello murmurs bitterly, though his tone betrays his amusement.

Hex waves a hand dismissively. "Oh hush. You're just pissed you don't know how to keep a girl around."

"No, I'm good," Mello's smirk widens. "If anything, I'll be glad you're off my chest. By all means, _Matty-boy," _he uses Hex's nickname with a higher pitching; mocking her,_ "_Take her away from me."

Matt grins, flashing a straight row of white teeth. "Wait. If this fair damsel is so annoying as to burden even the _foulest _most _stubborn _of beasts," He snickers at Mello's dark glare. "I think I should reconsider… Maybe, _maybe_, I don't need a damsel." He looks to Hex and winks behind his goggles. "Shall I just leave you with the beast?"

"So much for mercy," She lets out an unladylike snort. "Looks like I'm going to have to rescue myself."

"Walk right out," Mello jerks his head to the door. "No one's planning on stopping you."

Hex turns her nose up in the air and makes a "humph" sound. Trotting in her black heels, she retrieves her faux fur coat and wears it on. Smirking saucily as she adjusts it, she says, "The both of you are going to miss this damsel, I swear. When I get back, you're going to be crying at my feet, begging me _never _to leave, never ever, ever again."

"You're leaving?" Matt questions curiously.

Mello rolls his eyes at Matt's sudden idiocy, words dripping in sarcasm. "No, she just loves parading around the place playing dress up."

The brunette grins cheekily. "Well, I wouldn't mind someone dressing up all the time _just _for me." He looks to Hex with a waggle of his eyebrows. "Only for me, eh, Hex? Kind of like a treat."

"Think what you will," she shrugs, brushing a lock of her wig from tickling her neck.

The blond male, sitting sprawled on the sofa, bristles for some reason. "Please. She's heading off to another one of her little expeditions."

"Jealous of her attention over me, Mello?" Matt teases lightheartedly.

Mello scowls deeply, looking away from them. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm only irritated by the both of you. Why the hell are you encouraging him, Hex?" And glancing at Matt, he sighs. "And if you're only here to ogle at girls all day long, why didn't you buy a magazine?"

Hex looks disgusted, aghast by his suggestion. "That's okay, I guess. If you like cake faced girls and silicon."

"You're a little cake-faced yourself today, Blondie, so you can't be one to talk." The brunette laughs heartily and leans back into his seat, craning his neck up to Hex to whisper in her ear, deliberately loud so Mello can overhear. "Personally, I think he's just mad I'm making passes at you." Hex chortles and looks to Mello, looking to be almost pouting at their immaturity.

"Aw," she snickers. "I'm not sure whether to be disgusted or flattered by you. You've never made passes at me _before._" She bats her eyelashes playfully, making kissy noises. "But aren't I just boo-ti-ful today? Am I purdy?"

Mello looks at her defiantly, cutting Matt from answering her. "Depends. Do you want the _nice _answer, or the _honest _answer?"

"Tres harsh," Matt remarks, raising an eyebrow at him. "He really is a foul beast."

Hex nods firmly. "The meanest too."

"I might save you from him after all, damsel," he smirks. "Otherwise, you'll be in distress."

She taps her finger on her chin and hums. "Or you could subdue him, or pet him. I don't know, make passes at him instead? Maybe he'd like that. He _is _a jealous beast, no?"

"Fuck you," Mello spits. "I-"

The sound of the front door creaking open halts Mello's words. Three pairs of eyes zero on Zakk's form, straight and tall, donning a pressed chauffeur's suit. "The limo is ready, Hex."

Hex nods in understanding, mussing Matt's hair once more before she pulls away from him. She has almost forgotten about her job; meeting one of Aiber's higher-up clients for a drug trade. There will be charming and conning, and hours of papers to read and fill, Hex is not looking forward to this. Looking to the boys over her shoulder as she reaches the door, she grins. "The damsel has taken off. Don't break anything without me, 'kay?"

* * *

TBC

* * *

_A/N: I haven't slept in almost four days. _O.O _I shall never doubt the power of caffeine ever again. But I'm rambling. X) Ahem, so if no one guessed, the weird 'rescue the damsel' conversation is a kind of foreshadowing. I've been placing those here and there in some previous chapters, and will add more in the chapters to come._

_Also, does anyone else notice how Matt's outfit resembles the Hamburglar? … I'm just saying. :P_

_A very wonderful, special thanks to:  
_C. Holywell-Black: _May I am turning into a soft marshMello- I've been forced to watch Asian romance dramas all summer long. haha, I've been reading your '_LAWLIET: Looks Like Light Lost'_, and it's pretty awesome! :D More alleviating fluff, but 'tis just the calm before the storm. *dramatic music* Mello and Hex have yet to talk without riling each other up. haha  
_Overboard343: _As the saying goes, 'if you want something done, you have to do it yourself'. haha, Hex doesn't seem the type to sit around reading papers, even if it'll help Mello. :P I love having them argue; witty responses are amusing. Your hunch may be _(may be_) correct. :D  
_PocketfullaMisery: _And here we have Matt, mister charmer extraordinaire! I guess having lived with her mentors for years, a little bit of them rubbed off on her. :) Probably why Hex finds pleasure in Mello's misery. Her not speaking about the Kira case wasn't purely intentional- she really thought Mello knew._

_

* * *

_

Preview:

"So, how _do _you know Hex?" Mello's tone is innocent, but his eyes gleam with poorly disguised suspicion, and maybe, jealousy? Matt is almost amused by this. "You two seem... awfully close."

_Review, please! :D_


	13. Twelve

_A/N: This chapter is so long. _._.

* * *

.

**_A_**d**r**e_n_ali**n**_e _**R**u_s_h

.

_(Wake me up)  
__Wake me up inside  
__(I can't wake up)  
__Wake me up inside  
__(Save me)  
__call my name and save me from the dark  
__- Bring me to life, _Evanescence

_Chapter Twelve_

Curling smoke clouds, thick and gray, filter his vision. The suffocating smell forces its way into his lungs and Mello is left coughing violently. All around him is red, charred remains, and burning ash. The building is set ablaze. Fire is licking at everything in sight like the greed of the devil.

Mello feels fear and desperation. He is running towards an exit, as fast as his legs can carry him. Somehow, the exit remains beyond his reach. The floor is stretching and winding –or is he getting dizzy from inhaling too much smoke? Death is behind him, chasing after him, whispering that he will not make it in time to save himself.

His trepidation heightens to immense degrees, just as the taste of impending disaster and doom goes washing over him. They leave a bad taste in his mouth. The booming sounds of explosions have ceased, and everything in sight is beginning to crumble. Stone and rubble quiver and shake by his feet.

Suddenly, there is a loud crack above him. His eyes widen as he looks up, and although he wills himself to move, he does not react in time. The ceiling crashes down on him, trapping him. The blaze spreads faster, heating, charring his skin.

And he is burning alive.

Mello's eyes snap open. Darkness and black greets him, and at first, he truly believes he is dead. He reaches out to touch the blackness and feels a fabric-like softness to it. He sighs in relief. He isn't dead, merely under a mess of sweat and his comforter. He kicks the latter off of him and sits up to survey his surroundings. Is anything out of place?

Is he still dreaming?

There is sunlight peeking from behind the curtains, casting a few rays of light over the bedroom floor. There is a table lamp shining over papers and pencils that lay still on an oak desk. Nothing is out of the ordinary. He is awake now. Nothing is burning, and there is no charring flesh. No smoke, no fire, and no dying. It had just been a nightmare.

There is nothing to worry about, even though it all had seemed so real.

Like a foreboding, a warning that if he goes too far, he will be going down with fire. Mello grimaces, telling himself to be more cautious. Better safe than sorry.

Shaking his thoughts away, he glances at the nightstand. The angry red numbers of the digital clock read 11.56 A.M. He curses softly. He does not understand how has overslept when he does not even remember falling asleep. Last night seems blurry and unclear to him. He remembers glass bottles, pages, ink and paper, filled with nothing but unimportant words that will do nothing to help his Kira investigation.

Somehow, despite his plentiful hours of rest and sleep, Mello is still so tired. He is tempted to fall back into the sheets, but he remembers he has trained himself better than to spoil himself with such luxuries. Kira is killing by the hundreds, maybe even thousands, so Mello cannot afford to waste time.

He needs to get a step further in all his research and investigating. Mello needs to show L exactly why he is better than Near will ever be. Mello is going to be the new number one.

Motivated, he pulls himself up off the bed, but is abruptly hit by waves of nausea and dizziness. The room begins to blur, spinning in circles and casting him off balance. In his line of sight, colors dance like wildfire, making him so sick and uneasy. Mello curses, and blames his sudden descent into weakness on no one but himself.

It has been bound to happen sooner or later, given his poor health habits. After too many days of self-induced malnourishment, skipping meals, and irregular days of actually succumbing to sleep- it is amazing that he is still able to stumble to the door.

Damn, but he needs some aspirin.

* * *

_How to use V: A person can shorten his/her own life by using the note._

* * *

"Just give up, sweetheart."

"Shut up, Mattie. No one's winning yet."

Hex and Matt attack relentlessly at the keyboard of their laptops. Their hands are almost blurring with the speed and efficiency of seasoned hackers. Their eyes are glossy and unblinking, reflecting the eerie lights emanating from the pixilated screens. They refuse to let even the slightest pieces of information escape their notice, for everything may prove to count.

The effects of the caffeine pumped up in Matt's system is starting to wear down, and his eyes are begging to close, tired with the strain. He wants to collapse somewhere –even the sofa will do- and just fall asleep. Even without looking at Hex, he knows she is going through the same struggle to keep awake.

Neither one of them has ever gone twenty six hours –and counting- of nonstop hacking. As much as Matt is enjoying his time with Hex, this is getting ridiculous. He wonders when she will decide to end all the rematches and give up this little game of theirs.

As he reads the encrypted code on his computer screen, he asks her idly, "Are you done daisy-chaining **(1) **yet?"

Hex attempts to stifle a yawn, but Matt catches it. It confirms his suspicion; she is just as tired as he is, if not even more. He imagines Hex rubbing at an eye while keeping the other trained on the screen as she says, "Yeah, but this raster burn **(2)** is killing the crap out of me. Resolution control does nothing- why the hell are you not complaining about it?"

"I've had my computer designed for hacking, you know, unlike yours," he tells her, tapping at the frame of his orange goggles fondly. "Also, my eyewear isn't just for photosensitivity. She protects my eyeballs fabulously. That's why I've yet to have any severe optical damage."

Hex smirks in amusement. "You realize they look dorky, right?"

The dark haired teen grins impishly. "The ladies tell me I look pretty fine. Two weeks ago, some of those girls at Gamestop even gave me their numbers. What've you got to say to that?"

She scoffs at him disdainfully, thinking Matt's flock of flirty females are unimpressive. Matt ignores her, opting not to have his pride wounded. Hex drawls, "Nah, I bet they just felt sorry for you. Maybe, they think you'd cry when some non-dorky guy flat out tells you how weird you look."

Pausing, Matt suddenly asks, "Hex, did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That was my heart breaking."

The towheaded blond snickers like the nasty brat she is. "No, that was me walking all over it."

Matt rolls his eyes inwardly at her. "You're despicably cold-hearted, honey."

"It's a talent."

He laughs. "I can't begin to guess how Mello's put up with you all this time."

She throws a leg over the arm of the sofa and leans comfortably into Matt's side, drawing the computer onto her lap. He does not mind her contact in the least. The apartment is too cold for midday somehow, and the body heat rolling off of her in waves is warming him effectively.

"Mello's surprisingly patient," she says in a tone which implies that none of her words are true. She crinkles her nose with a wide grin. "He takes care of me with nothing but tender loving care. It's always so sweet, I throw up."

"Some ladies would already _kill _to be in your position, then," Matt plays along. "Mello isn't just nice to any girl, seriously."

She snorts, drawling out sarcastically, "I'm _so _flattered."

As her computer processes her work, Hex risks looking over her shoulder to Matt. He is processing encryptions, translating a multitude of zeroes and ones in his mind for easier comprehension. It hurts her brain just to think of what the code is saying. She clicks her tongue distastefully. "You make things awfully hard for yourself."

Matt shrugs, a humble smile striking his features. "Binary code's not too bad- sure it's a little more difficult, but it's a hell lot faster, and more informative too. I'd use the normal, safer way you're using, but we're having a speed hacking competition, aren't we? I'm using all I've got in my arsenal."

He hits the last key and grins approvingly. He is in the system at last. "It looks like I've won this round, kid."

The teen sets his computer aside, blinking tiredly. He folds his arms behind his head and kicks his feet onto the table; an exaggerated show of contentedness, or maybe he is really that tired. He hears Hex swear colorfully, bringing an amused smile to his lips.

If her speed is any indication, she is only almost done with her hacking. It is a fact that brings about her sour mood once more. Matt knows that while Hex is not so much a sore loser as Mello is, she still intensely likes being upstaged, especially at the things she has proven to be very good at. Hacking is one of these things.

It is only after two slow minutes -having to have to listen to her grumbling- when Hex is finally done. He finds her to be wearing a very pronounced scowl. She tells him firmly, "I demand a rematch. Best eight out of fifteen?"

Matt chuckles warmly and her cheeks burn red. She glares bullets at him, trying to intimidate him into relenting. It doesn't work; Matt has already been subjected to this sort of stare from her and Mello too many times, much to Hex's dismay. As frustrated as she looks, Matt is not about to sacrifice rest for another five or seven hours of hacking just to please her.

"Hex, come on. Don't be so sour," he says in a placating manner. "Let's just call it even and quit. I'm tired, okay?"

She shakes her head in protest, her lower lip jutting out in a childish pout. Matt realizes that she is switching her tactics. If intimidation didn't work, then maybe sympathy-searching will. Unfortunately, Matt likes to think that he has more control than to let himself fall for the same bag of tricks he has fallen for before.

Hex says, "But I cheated in the first round, remember? That's not being on even ground… and I hate it. I want a rematch- just a quick one!- even if it gives you an ulcer." She bats her eyelashes at him prettily. "Please?"

Matt tears his eyes away from her. "Hey, you're great as you are, so no need to be so insecure. You're definitely high up on the list of the best hackers around-"

"But you're the best of the best," Hex says, poking him in his right cheek lightly. "And if I beat you… that'll be just awesome, you know?"

Matt's resolve remains firm. He pushes her hand away from him gently and meets her eyes. Hers are wide with faux innocence, but Matt can see the expectance behind them. He smiles. "You flatter me, Hex, really. But I gotta recharge my batteries or I'll collapse. Besides, you look just about as tired as I am."

Immediately, she drops she act, a frown replacing the sweet smile on her features. "You're no fun at all."

"Drop it, kid," he says. "You can't always get what you want."

"I can, and I will._"_

"Nu-uh."

"Yeah-uh."

"Nu-uh."

Their –admittedly- moronic banter ends just as the bedroom door opens. Hex does not look too happy with the fact that Matt has unofficially had the last word. She sends a suffering look to the wall. Matt only rolls his eyes, ignoring her. She will lighten up sooner or later.

Mello shuffles out the door with a muted, preoccupied look in his eyes. The blonde is walking with his usual swagger, but it seems to be more deliberate than casual. His footfalls are not as soundless, and Mello is looking slightly flushed. These might be little details, but Matt strives in his skill for observation, and all he has gathered tells him that Mello is not okay.

Frowning, Matt inquires, "You okay, man? You're looking… uh, rather icky this morning."

The blonde shoots him a dirty look, and mutters something decidedly nasty under his breath. Matt isn't at all affronted with Mello's attitude, but Hex –of course- is. She pats the brunette's hand and says calmly, "Mattie, Mattie, Mattie… you sorely lack tact. Watch how a real pro does it."

She fixes a piercing glower on Mello, and very tactlessly quips, "Melly-bean, you're looking especially unsightly today. What's crawled up your hide?"

"I need aspirin," Mello tells hoarsely, hobbling towards the kitchen.

But Matt tells him, "We're out, Mel. You took the last few two days ago, remember?"

Mello's lack of response tells Matt that he doesn't. The brunette has mind enough to know that Mello's lapse into bad memory is nothing more than a temporary side effect to his near-ceaseless vodka intake for the past few days.

The hacker sighs, and moves himself from under Hex's arm, sauntering over dutifully to his friend. He peels off his leather glove and presses his palm to Mello's brow, wholly ignoring the older teen's protests. Mello is shivering under his own sweat, hating the cold air of the living room.

With an unyielding calmness in his eyes, Matt mentally totals up the symptoms and categorizes Mello's problem to be just a fever. He glances at Hex for a little help, but he sees that she is studying them both blankly. It is as if she is hiding her turmoil, if any. She is picking lint off of her shorts, blinking lazily, when she says, "He's sick, isn't he?"

She puts up a façade of agitation for reasons beyond Matt's comprehension. Her words are cold, but completely empty of harsh intent. Maybe, this is her way of voicing her concern. Matt wouldn't know; as far as he's concerned, he's never seen Hex too concerned about anyone before.

"I told him not to take any vodka on an empty stomach, but did he listen?" Hex rants. "_Noooooo,_ he chugs all five bottles down like he's dying the next week." She smirks snidely at the blonde, teasing him. "Now look at you. Having the time of your life, aren't you, Melly-bean?"

"The absolute best," Mello barks irritably. "Now shut up. I don't need you rubbing anything in my face."

"But… I told you so," she counters, blinking innocently as a wry smile spreads across her lips.

Matt decides to intervene before they begin another one of their many –loud- arguments. He clears his throat, steering Mello towards the couch. "Just get him some aspirin down at the drugstore, honey, please?"

She narrows her eyes at him, but swallows down any nasty retort that had threatened to spill out. She raises her hands at them in mock surrender. "Yeah, fine. Go be Mello's nanny. That ought to be _so _fun."

Hex hops off the shredded soda and heads to the door, picking up Mello's motorcycle keys on her way. She dangles the chain off her finger at Mello tauntingly, smirking cheekily. She and Matt are all too aware of how Mello dislikes anyone breathing on his bike, much less riding it. Hex intends to take full advantage of the fact that Mello is in no proper state to be threatening her to agitate him.

The hacker rolls his eyes, watching her exit the door, still swinging the keys around her index finger.

There is only a breath's moment of silence before Matt is subjected to one of Mello's darker glares. Matt knows it is only because he has done nothing at all to stop Hex. He wants to comment that materialism is something stupid to get so riled up about, but decides against it. Mello has always been like this about certain things he owns, like the red and black crucifix he keeps in a little padded box. Mello, and the word 'share' hardly ever come together.

Still, Matt says, "Ease up, Mel. I doubt she'd wreck your bike. Otherwise, she'd need a ride to get back here."

The hacker tunes Mello out just as he starts ranting about what a bitch Hex is, or how idiotic Matt is. Geez. With Mello's antics being akin to a spoiled brat throwing a tantrum, Matt thinks Mello should consider being a superhero. Brat-man, or something. With a flaming red cape blowing with the wind, and outer underwear.

Matt wouldn't mind buying a copy, if it ever becomes a comic book.

"- What possessed you to even think she'll take any fucking order? Just -"

Matt blinks, shaken out of his reverie. "Whoa, slow down, Mel. What?"

The older teen's scowl deepens. "What makes you think that Hex would be so kind as to run a little errand, just because it's _you _who told her to?"

He raises an eyebrow. "What does being me have to do with anything?"

Mello grunts irritably. "I'm not blind. Everywhere I look, you're right next to her- and she doesn't even bitch at you much. She even treats you like a person…You two talk like you've known each other for years."

His lips pull into a grin as he adjusts his goggles, letting it sit on the top of his head. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Melly-bean?" He uses Hex's favorite pet name for the blonde, and he watches Mello almost cringe at its absurdity. "You're being ridiculous, Mel. Doesn't she treat you like a person too? …Or is 'treating people like people' uh, subjective?"

"It's stupid," the blonde mutters. "I don't know how she does it, but she makes everything subjective. She…treats me like an incompetent fool."

The younger teen hides his disapproving look, knowing all too well that Mello will not appreciate it. "You've known her for three years now, Mel, and you're smart. I would've thought you'd have figured out a way around her already. Hell, I know her. It's not going to be easy, but it's worth it."

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that," Mello says in a rather suspicious manner. "You seem to be... well acquainted with her. Not to mention, you had 'just so happened to' have a homing device with her DNA on it lying around back at Wammy's. How do you explain that?"

Matt's smile is tight. "We're acquainted. "

"But how? You two seem… awfully close." Mello's tone is innocent, but Matt is not buying it. The older teen's eyes are sharp with poorly disguised suspicion, and maybe… jealousy? How odd. Matt can easily understand suspicion, but for what reason would Mello have to be jealous? Unless…

Unless Mello truly is jealous.

It would make sense, now that he thinks about it. He knows that Mello has a love-hate relationship of some kind with her, and that he has an odd, bipolar sense of affection for her. He may even _like _Hex. The idea is plausible, and has Matt thinking.

He has seen the way Mello will watch her at sporadic moments –especially when she has her eyes and attention turned away from him. And Matt knows that Mello will call her when she is away, and that he will hover over her at times when she finally returns after too long a trip. Mello is subtle, but Matt is not specialized in observation for nothing.

Grinning mischievously, Matt asks, "What's it to you?"

Mello scowls. "Don't be an ass, Matt."

"We've known each other since we were… I don't know, about three," he answers casually. "We were pretty close."

He imagines the wheels turning in Mello's tired head. Matt knows that Mello knows –more or less- almost all there is to know about him. And Mello knows that Matt has been brought into Wammy's when he was three. And if he's known Hex since then, that would mean… "Hex was a student at Wammy's around the time you were brought in." Mello's words sound more of a statement than a question, but Matt says nothing.

But it is amazing what one could learn with even the slightest bits of information. Mello, despite his fever, is still brilliant in pointing out facts and making reasonable guesses.

"You two probably hit it off back then, and have kept in contact ever since," Mello says. "That would explain why you were able to trace her so easily… Hm, her name wasn't on the recorded list of all the fourth generation students, so this would mean she was either first, second or third generation."

Mello leans back into his seat, rubbing his temple thoughtfully. "She was given the L code, and not the standard code, since it hasn't been introduced until seven years ago… But I'm still wondering why the name 'Hex' didn't turn up on any of the records of Wammy students in Roger's office. Her files only said she was Aiber and Wedy's successor."

"Great deducing, Mello," Matt praises, wearing an uncomfortable smile. It may be a ridiculous thought, be he feels like Hex might be listening in on them. Or maybe it is just paranoia. He knows that at the direction the conversation is heading to, Hex –if she ever finds out- will definitely slaughter him.

Hex has never liked talking, hearing or even touching things that had any connection to her Wammy student days- and with good reason. There are reasons why she scorns L and Wammy's so much. Exploiting these reasons isn't right. She isn't Matt's story to tell, and it is taboo anyway.

A betrayal of trust… But… what harm will telling Mello do?

Unless Matt is missing something, there is nothing Mello will be able to gain with knowing what Hex had been like then. Mello _may_ be using Hex –and quite possibly, Matt as well- but Mello is first and foremost, his best friend.

So Matt attempts to quell the flames of worry that are suddenly spreading in his stomach.

"The file you were reading was her file as _Hex_… She went by another name back at Wammy's; X." Matt shrugs awkwardly, averting his eyes from the blonde. "Uh, you know… the one from the first generation."

Mello's reaction would have been amusing, if Matt didn't feel so uneasy. It is ironic, that someone Mello has been complaining about for who knows how long, is turning out to be one of the very few people Mello has practically worshipped in his younger days at the Wammy's House.

Hex had been X, one of the trio of children to have ever been instructed by L to work on a case. Hex was X, the orphan who'd been involved in one of Wammy's historical events: the Detective War.

A question fires at Matt. "You _knew_ that I've read the wrong file. Why didn't you tell me?"

Matt resists the urge to flinch. "I didn't think the right file had been there until I bothered to check- and that was the night I left Wammy's. It didn't matter anymore if you've read the right file or not at that point- I knew you were already with Hex. You didn't need it."

The blonde's eyes narrow. "The file's contents might have been useful to me, Matt. Why didn't you mention this anyway?"

"I _told_ you; it didn't matter," Matt says. "If I had seen something worth mentioning, I would've already mentioned it. Don't you trust me?"

Mello doesn't answer, and Matt thinks he might as well have been punched in the gut. Matt had suspected it, really, but Mello's silence –that confirmation- had hurt anyway.

The hacker forces himself to smile. "I get it. Never mind."

He is thankful that Mello changes the subject, or he would have lost himself in thought again. Mello says, "You still should've told me."

"… It's not something Hex likes to talk about, so I respect that. What right do I have to say anything?" Matt returns. "I shouldn't be telling you any of this as it is. It'll benefit no one."

"It'll benefit _me,_" Mello argues. "I'm after Kira, Matt, and Hex -whether she knows it or not- will help me achieve my goal. If I'm going to _use_ her, and damn it, but I _will, _I need to know all there is to possibly know about her. I need to be aware of the way she thinks, her abilities, capabilities. Her strengths and weaknesses- _everything."_

Matt's left eye twitches, patience tested. "You read all that shit in her file already."

The blonde lifts his chin up defiantly. "You _know_ that Wammy's doesn't keep anything more than vague details. I need to know what's important, and if I can't learn that from_ L_, I'll learn from _you_."

His voice is level, but low. "Ask her. That way, you'll learn all you want."

"That's stupid," Mello hisses. "To ask her would give away my intentions- you _know _that. And she'd probably lie, anyway."

Matt's lips curl downward. "What makes you so sure I won't lie?"

"What makes you so sure you will?" the blonde retorts. "Come on, Matt. I have a right to know. She'll confirm my success. You _know _I plan on using her to her full extent, but I can't do that if I don't know what I need to know! I _will _learn her like the back of my hand."

And Matt is reminded of how he has lied to Hex when he has told her that Mello is in no way at all using her. It worries him, this conflict, because while Mello is his best friend, Hex is his first friend. He knows them both well, and he cannot just decide -in an unbiased manner- on who he should side with.

To side with Hex, there will be nothing to gain, and nothing but Mello's trust to lose. And if he sides with Mello, he will gain Mello's favor, assured protection from Kira, and he will not lose Hex's trust unless Hex finds out… And he plans for that to never happen, _ever_.

Mello or Hex?

Hex or Mello?

Who?

Matt's tone is quiet. "Why can't you just respect her privacy?"

His best friend ignores the question, and instead, says, "We've got time, and no need to worry. It's rush hour- and Hex won't be back until later… It'd be our little secret, Matt."

"Do I look like a snitch to you?" Matt asks, almost inaudibly.

Mello persists, staring him down. "She doesn't have to know. She _won't _know. Matt, there's nothing wrong with telling me what. I. Want. To. Know."

He bows his head, sighing, and finally relenting. "What _do_ you want to know?"

"She left Wammy's," Mello says. "Why?"

The question has Matt sinking into his memories.

The first generation of Wammy children had been abandoned by L, the very person who had created them. Matt remembers how they all had been treated like robots or toys for play and prodding; expected to break so soon, expected to have faulty. The first generation had been nothing but a collection of prototypes and failed tests. L had wanted to know how far a mind could be filled, how far a human could go before he or she suddenly snaps, unable to withstand the pressure.

A –_the _A- had been the first of many to have ever had the guts to go against L. A had murdered himself for the sake of his fading sanity, and he had shown the rest of the Alphabet that they did not need to fall under the greedy, demanding claws of the L Code.

Matt remembers them L. There was B, who had sworn to surpass L, for the sake of proving L wrong. There was C, who had finally lost her sanity as she was discarded like last week's newspaper. And there was D, who stood up for himself, and had paid for it dearly. The destruction and chaos went further down the alphabet, one by one, like dominoes. But- there had been only three who had remained unaffected… at least, not until after.

X, Y, and Z. Matt's stomach churns.

The Alphabet makes everyone queasy enough.

Matt remembers Mello telling him that L had shared a few stories with him- the Detective War being one of them. Hearing Mello recite all L had said, Matt had quickly noticed how glorified everything had sounded. L had made the Detective Wars sound like something thrilling, something noble; something to be proud of. There was justice. Greatness. Nobility.

But L has never been noble. He was only a letter, and behind it, a man who had called himself a liar. L had only made the War sound great to stir Mello's interest, to have Mello obsessed with the idea of being a detective, obsessed with the need to be L, to be the best. And now? Obsessed, Mello is.

The Detective War had never been great, or justified- nothing to be proud of. True that, it was thrilling; X, Y and Z were the only three to have ever been selected by L to solve a case, and their names were now treated with respect. But the Detective War had been filled with little to no good intentions. Only needs to prove their self-worth, respect, and… to go against fear.

The War had been nothing but a race to the finish, a competition that had went out of control. It was to see who, between X, Y and Z, could solve their assigned case –ironically, it was to locate, and accordingly punish a group of terrorists, _warmongers_- first. They were all warned not to fail, and they couldn't be begrudged for being afraid that they might fall to the same fate as their predecessors.

It started out innocent; little taunts and warnings, threats before they realized that no time to waste. That was a chance to be number one, to be L's _direct successor_.

And then, they went all out. Z –who had played life like a game of chess- had called for the aid of the US military. Sacrifices were a given, and the casualties had reached to hundreds. It didn't matter. They were pawns under cruel guidance to success. Z didn't need the military when he'd be number one anyway.

Y –who was best with technology and aerial control- had sent for a platoon of trained suicide pilots to maneuver his way into winning. Matt still doesn't understand in which structure Y had planned everything- not many did.

And Matt remembers how ashamed Hex had been when she admitted that she had resorted to the mafia for help, and there she had first met Aiber, a con-artist who had actually worried enough for her to want to help. L hadn't been happy with how she went against the law, but then again, they all did.

It was ridiculous. L had pitted a trio of _six year olds_ in a contest against each other, to see who had what it takes to be him. Either L had had his expectations too high, or he had already expected the outcome from the start. But the neither made sense. If he knew who'd win, why make a contest?

They were just children. They were supposed to be running out on meadows or playing with dolls or filling their coloring books with crayon.

In the end, Y had lost his life, and X had lost to Z. Matt remembers when Hex had told him of how proud Z was, how ready he had been to be welcomed back at Wammy's as Number One. He was expectant, even. Z had never been given a reason to feel otherwise.

They had returned to the orphanage and Z had been extremely disappointed. A new student, Near, had already taken Z's place from him. Z was no longer needed. He wasn't number one. Z was discarded, and he went insane. Matt had been there to watch Z be dragged away, kicking and crying and screaming.

X had appeared and disappeared at random moments from then on. Only during one night –either he had confronted her, or she had come to him- did she decide to tell him that she would be reassigned elsewhere, that she would find purpose without losing herself along the way.

Matt simply listened as she told him that she refused to trusting anyone too much–"I don't want to end up like Y… or Z, Mattie. Please understand," she said- and that she hated Wammy's. She hated Y for dying. She hated Z for leaving her. And she hated L.

X, no, _Hex, _had her belongings in a rucksack, and she was walking away just like that. Ahead in the distance, there was man that Matt just _knows _was Aiber.

She had told Matt, "I quit this. L isn't worth it."

It was a cold night, that night.

* * *

_How to use V: A Shinigami can extend their own life by putting a name on their own note, but humans cannot._

* * *

Unbeknownst to them, a certain someone is listening in.

"_She just… fell under the pressure of the Detective War, I guess," _she hears Matt say. _"Y had died, and Z won. When she and Z came back, they found out that they've been replaced... by us. The fourth generation."_

"_Yeah?" _Mello sounds too interested for his own good.

"_L wasn't happy with either of them, but Z, at least, had an excuse from punishment. Z just lost it. But Hex? L decided to strip her off of successor-ship."_

"_L wouldn't do that. It's too foolish."_

"_Well, it's not like we know what L would or wouldn't do. We don't know him, Mel," _Matt says. _"But Hex didn't think she'd do anything productive by sticking around-"_

She's heard enough.

Biting down her anger, she tears her earpiece away from her ear by its wire. Her hands are clenched into fists at her sides. Hex is seething, shaking with anger, hurt, and most apparently, betrayal.

She just _knew _it would happen one day. Honestly, what was she even thinking? Why did she –completely disregard Aiber's warnings about people- trust Mello? Why did she trust Matt? If it is just because Matt's supposed to be the first person she's ever bothered to befriend, then she has been so stupid.

And Mello? She -naively- had placed her trust in Mello because she-

Hex would rather not finish that thought. It doesn't matter anymore, anyway. It seems that Matt and Mello intend to be selfish. Matt only does things to assure his own safety, Hex knows. Matt feels more assured that he will not waste away, bleeding on a roadside if he chooses Mello, rather than her. The hacker feels safer.

And it is only nature, to flock towards safety.

But Mello.

He has all but admitted that he has been using her –and still is!- for the best of his cruel intentions. And that is only the tip of the iceberg; who _knows _what Mello has planned for her? Hex suspects that Mello will have her bait Kira. She knows of her own notoriety in the underworld. Kira would never hesitate to be rid of her.

It looks like all Mello has said and done weren't genuine. Her getting shot, his getting in the mafia, the beheaded boss, his warmth, reassurances- it all was a part of his ploy. Hex has been feeding him all he has wanted to know. Information, techniques, skills- all of it. He has been manipulating her all along.

And she shouldn't forget; Matt had been the one to send Mello to begin with.

From the sounds of it, Matt is aware of Mello's intentions with her. Other than giving weak excuses, he hadn't done a damn thing against Mello. "Loosen up. Mello's a good guy, I swear. He cares." Matt's words are still etched in her brain. Apparently, backstabbing and lying can come from even the sweetest of people.

It is funny- he is a better liar than she has first given him credit for; she wouldn't have swallowed his lies down otherwise. Hex would not chance lowering her guard and underestimating him again. Wait-

- Underestimation.

Her eyes widen in realization. They underestimate her! _Her!_ Hex isn't sure if she wants to laugh or scream. She hates being scoffed at, or being so little in anyone's eyes when she _knows _she is capable of blowing their brains up. Literally.

But Wedy has trained her to make do with everything, and to use underestimation as an advantage over her opponents. Underestimation _may _be something she has never tolerated, but Wedy's advice to has worked well for Hex countless of times before. This shouldn't be any different.

What Hex lacks in tactical expertise, she will makes up in resourcefulness and spontaneity. Although she has no plan in her hands now, she knows what she must do.

Get even.

She has been duped. Cheated. Lied to. She is being used. By Mello. And Matt fucking _swore _to her that Mello'd never do such a thing. Hex is angry, hell yeah. But more than anything, she is hurt, and she doesn't know how to deal with it other than retaliating. Maybe she'll feel better afterward. Revenge is the best motivation, after all.

An eye for an eye.

Hex runs a hand through her tresses in frustration, fisting and pulling roughly- a vain attempt to fight off her oncoming migraine. Her eyes travel from the door, to the counter, and then finally, to the earpiece in her hand. She chews on her lower lip fervently, now on edge. A voice in her head suggests that maybe, it would be best if she makes a habit of listening in on them.

… But that wouldn't be a fair game now, would it?

Heh. She is a criminal, a fraud. Why should _she _care? It has been ages since she has felt so intellectually challenged.

She will play Mello's game, but subtly. Hex will not make her move until the opportune moment rises, or she'd blow everything up. This means that it would be in her best interests to pretend she has not heard a thing at all.

Hex will keep everything as it is- a sick cycle. She will pretend everything is alright, and she will eventually obtain all the information she might need. Then. Then, Hex will turn the tables against Mello, and maybe even Matt, and she will have revenge. She will feed them to the wolves and watch them, watch _Mello_ fend for himself.

She will show them why exactly they should _never _trifle with her.

She'll hurt them like they have done her, but with flair. With _patience. _

Exiting the pharmacy door, Hex decides to just forget the bottle of aspirin on the counter.

* * *

TBC

* * *

Glossary:

**(1)** Daisy chaining: it's a technique good hackers use to avoid getting caught. It more or less involves gaining entry to a network/computer and using it to gain access to another, then another. This technique is usually used to backtrack and get away with database.

**(2)** Raster burn: Eyestrain brought on by too many hours looking at low resolution monitors.

* * *

_A/N: Suspense has returned. *throws confetti* I was getting sick of all the happy, almost-fluff. Ahem. From here on out, you can count on Matt having a major role. Soon enough, I'll be pulling Near… and certain others into this. _

_Also, hope you liked my take on Wammy's first generation. Hex needed _some _reason to scorn Wammy's like she does._


	14. Thirteen

_A/N: Kick me. I know I said I was going to finish it early this year, but there's been a change of plans. You can blame my daily, almost two foot tall, pile of homework. I kid you not._

* * *

.

**_A_**d**r**e_n_ali**n**_e_ **R**u_s_h

.

_I tear my heart open,  
I sew myself shut.  
My weakness is that  
I care too much.  
- Scars,_Papa Roach

_Chapter Thirteen_

Rod Ross is stalking down the dim, stuffy corridors of the mafia base. Royal red wallpaper, carpeted corridors and sparse decor welcome him at every turn- it all looks dizzyingly similar. Had he been one of the new recruits or an intruder (though chances of intruders entering are very slim), he would have long since been lost. Fortunately for him, he had been the one to authorize the brats' decision to change the entire layout of the mafia. Ever since the restructuring of the mafia base, security has tightened, and information leaks have been... taken care of.

He inwardly commends them both for yet another accomplishment.

The mafia boss admits that he had been wary of them at first. And although his paranoia came with good reason- no one barges in on the mafia, ready with bombs, demanding to be let in-, it seems as though having them watched might have had been unnecessary.

What with the way they have proven their loyalty to him, Rod has no more reason to detest them. Yes, he can easily say now, that while he does not trust them -he probably never will-, he respects them immensely. They have risen in ranks in such a short span of time, and that is no easy feat for any teen. But then again, they aren't just _any _sort one would find running about on the streets.

For even street rats have their backgrounds.

Mello and Hex? They've got no background at all. Rod has had his men doing a check on their history, but the results have been nothing short of disappointing. He doesn't understand the phenomenon. He had expected that Hex, at least, would have had a criminal record, given her extensive crimes. But there had been nothing eye-catching. Her information was sparse, and it had stated nothing more than the fact that she exists, anf that she is still alive. Mello, on the other hand...

No one has even an inch on him. He had no crime records or hospital records, no identity and no bio-data. Mello doesn't exist to the world, and he can very well be a ghost in this life.

The mafia boss stops himself right there. Never any good comes from holding on to questions with no answers. Mello's lack of background should not be his primary concern anyway. The blonde has made clear of his usefulness to the mafia, and that should be sufficient for Rod to overlook his anonymity. At least, for the while.

Mello is useful. His tactical skills and prowess in constructing flawless strategic procedures are nothing but pure gold to Rod. It does not matter, that Mello's grand schemes (and overspending of imported wine and chocolate) make rather impressive dents in the mafia's financial accounts. Hex is reeling in the money like a pro anyway. She works the deals, trades, bargains- all the conning and theft that is ever necessary. Hex's prowess for spotting bad deals and traps are also a plus. All in all, it appears that Rod has been prospering, ever since he had first introduced them to the family.

They started off just like anyone else in the business- runts, amateurs that got sent for the most menial of tasks, but they worked their way up lightning quick. And as they rose in rank, the mafia rose in power. He daresay that he is now the head of one of, if not the most fearsome mafias in the entire business. Mello and Hex's promotions in rank are not regretted, but Rod is beginning to worry slightly. They stand just a single rank below his own now, and they have not yet demanded anything of him. It both surprises and unsettles him, but he knows that it will only be before long.

As he enters the main room, he hits the dim lights. Rod is surprised to see Hex, but greets her with a silent nod. He says in his usual drawl, "Hex... I never would've expected you, of all people, to be here tonight."

Rod's thoughts are not unfounded. Hex has made it clear too long ago, that she has no intention to be sticking around in a, and he quote, 'poorly decorated, musty room with sweaty men'. The latter comment is something he takes great amusement in: each time she is at the base, he sees her spitting threats and making demands for incense or air fresheners. Just ridiculous.

The flaxen-haired teen is sitting on the zebra print sofa, legs crossed, with one arm thrown over the back of the couch. Her other hand holds a glass of alcohol. Whisky, if the bottle on the table is any indication. Hex isn't even looking at him, but at the surface of the drink she swirls languidly. She seems highly distracted, and her reply is belated.

"I don't need to be expected to be here... but wasn't it Jack's duty to report to you... whenever Mello and I come around here?"

"Yes, it is... but it might have slipped his mind." Rod says quietly. He sits across her in the red leather recliner, leaning back leisurely.

Hex snorts. "Or he's too incompetent."

"You tell me."

The girl shrugs, picking up the half-filled bottle of whisky and offering him a glass. "I might have told him to keep my presence hush-hush. But it was mostly because of Mello."

The bottle is passed from a smaller hand to a much larger one. Rod pours the alcohol into the spare, empty glass on the low table before picking it up. "Trouble in paradise, sweet cheeks?"

"Paradise in trouble, more like." The words are muttered too quietly for Rod to hear. Hex downs the rest of her drink in one gulp and says, "Just a small argument. The mafia's finances are great enough to last us for years, but Mello thinks the base needs missiles. That's insane, you know? We need a clearing, launchers, missiles- the whole deal. It could cost us more than thirty six million for everything."

Rod doesn't detect that her defensive reply is only a half-truth. He accepts her words with a thoughtful hum. "And what does he intend to do with the missiles?"

"Get Kira's power," Hex sulks. "But I suggest we-"

The mafia boss doesn't give her suggestion a listen. After all, Mello is the tactical genius around. "Have Mello give me a call when you see him." He notes her empty glass and asks if she wants another.

She shakes her head. "I'd rather you keep the alcohol away from me for the moment."

Rod teases her with a smirk. "What's the matter? Can't hold your alcohol?"

She scowls, her gaze falling back to her now empty cup. "I hold it too well, actually."

"Oh?" Rod entertains her claim. "Then there shouldn't be a problem." Now that his eyes have adjusted to the dim lighting, he notes that there is a slight redness dusting her cheeks, and though her eyes are still attentive and alert, he cannot help but notice that she isn't quite focusing on anything. Rod assumes her to be slightly tipsy.

"Problems aren't always quick to show themselves," she says ominously. "Some problems- they're gradual... sometimes so slow, you don't get to see them." She takes another sip. "But who am I to say anything anyway? I'm practically begging for some more problems here."

Rod finally pours himself a glass. "Drinking is mostly for celebration, not desperation."

The girl snorts in an unladylike manner. "You're hiding under a rock, nervous at your own shadow because of some God-wannabe. Hallelujah, bring out the booze." She grins cynically. "It's not much to celebrate."

He smirks, pulling the glass away from his lips. "Not to you, maybe, but I for one, am glad I'm still alive. That's a more than valid reason to celebrate."

She mutters something under her breath, sounding vaguely like 'nothing to celebrate with Kira after you'. Rod sets the whisky bottle down, saying, "Ah. What your problem is, is that you see your glass half empty. You're too pessimistic."

"If I'm pessimistic, you're the queen of england," she snarkily replies. "When I see a glass half-filled, I say it's half-filled. End of story."

Rod sees her pull a face. He says, "I've got a collection of wine downstairs. It's quite vast. You could have a servant bring your favourite up."

"I'm sticking with the whisky."

The mafia leader waves his hand dismissively. "You don't even like the shit. Or do you?"

"I've mixed opinions about it," she says softly, shrugging. "It's unpleasant... bitter and sharp... Liked it enough at first, I suppose. But once I got past the sensation of trying something new- I realised it was just like anything else. My vision just... cleared... or blurred- I don't know which. The room's starting to spin." She chuckles. "But I used to like red wine too."

"Used to?" Rod echoes her, finding her half-drunken rambling wholly interesting.

Hex pouts as she thinks, tapping her empty glass thoughtfully. "Yeah. It was light, almost sweet, and healthy, just enough to make me warm- but it turned bitter too." Rod thinks she does not make any sense, but he has expected that, as listens on. "I'm glad everything's bitter. I get reminded that if Kira doesn't kill me first, alcohol will."

Rod remarks, "Technically, you die of a liver failure, not of alcohol consumption."

"But isn't it the alcohol's ripple effect that kills you? Alcohol causes addiction, addiction causes liver failure, and liver failure causes death." She puts her drink down. "Glad I'm sober now."

"That doesn't make any sense," Rod remarks. "You're hardly sober."

Her green eyes are glazing over. "Maybe. I'm just trying to savour the bitterness. Tonight will be the last time, I promise."

* * *

_How to use LIX: A human death caused by Death Note will indirectly lengthen some other human's original life even without a specific intention to lengthen a particular person's original life span in the human world._

* * *

Mello was orphaned at nine years old. He had barely survived for a while, but he hadn't been worried then. His mother used to tell him that horrible things happened for a reason, but things always would get better. Horrible things happen to everyone, and sometimes no one can ever understand why. His mother used to say that it was alright not knowing, because nothing can remain unknown, in the dark, for too long. Someone will be there to shine a light on the mysteries. His mother was an optimist, and she had told him everything he wanted to hear.

But nothing that he really needed to.

His mother didn't tell him that growing up meant getting hurt more and more. His mother didn't tell him that things wouldn't ever get better, if he didn't stand up and work for what he wanted. The epiphany shocked him the day L died. Mello woke from his hazy, misguided beliefs and he saw clearly for the first time. Mello realized then, that time was truly against him. He realized that if he stuck with his past beliefs, then life will be lived in ignorance and misery. He realized that despite knowing everything, he knew nothing.

Wammy's? That place is only a foundation for the skyscraper he's building. He had decided that no one could help him but himself, and he decided that he couldn't dive into the pool of ignorance where Near –and most other Wammy occupants- resided. Mello can only feel disgust at the knowledge that Near, although brilliant, was -and still is- oblivious to their inability to truly live.

So Mello had decided to damn Wammy's to hell, and he had packed all his things -save for a photograph- and left without regrets. He didn't need philosophers or professors or doctors to teach him how to live. No. He's learned more on the streets that he ever had at Wammy's, and he can only thank blood, pain, toil and survival, for leading him to where he is now. He's learned that life means survival of the fittest, bad did not necessarily mean wrong, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger... and that honesty is a lie.

Each time he says lie, if rolls off his tongue smoother than truth ever will. He can't stop, and he does not want to stop lying, even if it means living in paranoia. Even if it means never being safe. As long as he gets what he wants. What he _needs._

Matt's voice pulls Mello from his thoughts. The (now redheaded) teen waltzes into the kitchen with a cell phone pressed to his ear, an impatient look on his features. "No- hell, were you even listening to me? I'm not threatened by you or Ross, so don't give me shit. We had a deal, remember? I improve your security, secure your damn network and you give me my dough. I did my part two fucking weeks ago, so where the hell is my money?"

The younger boy flashes an irritable look at him. The older teen only shrugs. Matt plops into the chair across him stiffly and clenches his free hand. "You're not going to kill me," Matt laughs humorlessly, "You need my skills and you know it. I'm the best there is."

Mello stirs his coffee idly, watching Matt argue with slight interest.

"I want my money, Tommy," the brunette hisses. "All seven hundred thousand dollars of it- and I want it _tonight,_or else." And he leaves the conversation at that, flipping his phone shut and slamming it onto the wooden table.

Mello snorts. "Or else what?"

"Hell if I know," Matt groans, sinking deeper into the chair as if intending to be swallowed whole. "But I'm serious, Mel. That black mustang's been singing to me for _months._I can't take another day without her any longer."

"Easy there, lover boy," Mello chuckles. "You'll get your money."

Matt opens his eyes, setting a weak glare in the older boy's direction. "But _when?_You're in charge of the crew, aren't you?"

He puts his hands up in mock surrender. "It's not my job to care for the mob's finances. But still, I don't see why you can't take the money off of random bank accounts and just get the car already."

"I'm not you," Matt says simply, rolling his eyes as if it is the most obvious fact in the world. "If I want something done, I'll do it myself and I'll do it right. If I want money, I work for it. I earn it."

Mello swallows down his coffee. "That's laborious."

"Life's not always about shortcuts, Mel," Matt says sagely, a tired smile pulling at his lips. "It's not fair if we feed off what people earn."

The blond says, "Yeah? Well life's not fair. Grow a pair and get used to it."

"I've got a very decent pair, I assure you."

Mello snickers. "You're sick."

The brunette smiles at him as he tries to balance himself with the chair only on its hind legs. "I'm just saying that I like doing things right. Less will I have to listen to my conscience blabbing about right and wrong. I get guilty a lot, you know? In that sense, I'm not like you."

He taps himself on the chin, a thoughtful look on his face. "So you're saying that I lack conscience?"

Matt shakes his head, his expression carefully nonchalant. "Nah, that's an overstatement. I'm just saying that you have a lot less empathy than I do. Nothing's wrong with that, but it's just that… I know how you work, and it's a stark contrast to the way I do things. Cheating to get what I want- it just really isn't my style."

Mello frowns. "I wouldn't call what I do 'cheating', exactly. In case it slipped your notice, I still have to climb all the way to the top of my game- and without help, at that."

"So having me and Hex at your back isn't help?" Matt asks rhetorically, pursing his lips. "Well, thanks a heap. It's great to know our efforts are wholly acknowledged, not to mention, appreciated."

"That's not-" Mello breathes in, and pauses for a while, trying to stop himself from bristling in annoyance. "That's not what I meant, Matt. I appreciate the help, you know I do." What he doesn't say is that he will forget all Matt and Hex have done for him and feed them to piranhas happily, if it ever means capturing Kira.

Unfortunately for Mello, Matt remains unconvinced, and says, "Yeah, and that's why you're planning to betray Hex. You must be _so_thankful." Matt snorts derisively, looking vaguely sick at the thought. "I know you. You only have friends when it's convenient for you, so don't you even dare think that I don't know that you don't trust me anymore. You're probably going to use me like you're using her... and to think- we're willingly _helping_you."

"So why do you?" Mello's tone is deadly low, dangerous. "If you think you'll end up dead because of me, then why do you stick around? To what benefit can I bring you?"

Matt gives an easy shrug of his shoulders, but he will never reveal to Mello how he is secretly afraid of death, of Mello, of everything. "I'm just hoping you change your mind soon, I guess. If not- then… then we'll see what I'll do." He pulls the goggles from his head to over his eyes, now preventing Mello from reading him successfully. Matt is a coward like that. "But we're not talking about me, are we? We're talking about you."

"Were we?" Mello is not comfortable at all, at the fact that they are back to the same topic.

Twiddling with his thumbs lazily, Matt says, "Admit it, Mel. You're a liar- a cheater. What you're playing isn't a game. It's life, and life is fickle. You're planning to get through all of this with a gamble, and that's what cheaters do. You're not earning your way to the top; you're throwing others into the battlefield, expecting them to win the war for you."

Mello's face is unreadable. "Am I?"

"It's not fair that you do that to people- to me, or to _Hex,_of all people. Not after all she's done for you. Heck, Mel, she got you into the mafia. She gave you the information you needed. She-"

"I _know_what she's done," Mello says through clenched teeth. "I don't need you to remind me."

Matt is exasperated. "Then why are you pretending like you've forgotten? Like none of this is a big deal? I know she trusts you, Mel, and it's not fair that you're going to just-"

"Like I said," the blonde's tone is clipped. "Life isn't fair. Survival of the fittest."

Running fingers through his hair furiously, Matt shuts his eyes, willing all of this to go away. It doesn't. It never does. "Don't you hear yourself, Mello?" Matt sounds ever calm, like a parent trying to reason with a stubborn child. "She's your friend. She's _our_friend."

The older teen scoffs. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts about your part in this."

"Mello-"

"Because you sure as hell never complained about it before," Mello ignores him, raging. "So what, if I'm using Hex? So what, if I'm signing her off for dead? I don't like it either, but I don't see a better solution for this shit. And you shouldn't be one to complain about this, not when it looks like you're not going to do anything about it."

Matt sets his jaw and shuts his eyes tighter. "Let's… Let's just stop arguing."

"Let's not. It looks like we've got fuck loads to talk about."

Tiredly, his best friend pleads, "No, I've had enough. We can argue later."

Unimpressed with Matt's response, he scowls deeply. Mello leans back into the wooden chair, saying, "You see? That's the attitude that landed you in third place at Wammy's. If you had a little more guts, then maybe you would've been in second place."

"I- wait, only second place?" Matt's eyebrows knit together. "_That's_what you think of me? Just second best?" A little stung by the insult, Matt decides to retaliate. "So if I'm second best, what does that make you? Third or fourth place? Did you forget I've landed third rank without the effort you apply for your second place? Did you forget that Hex was number two for a reason?"

The older teen ignores the jab, but his yes flash a brilliant, icy blue. "If you're second, then I'm number one."

"And what about Near?" Matt's malicious smirk grows. "No, don't answer that. I already know- if you're number one, then he's already L."

_Ouch, burn._

Mello doesn't register getting to his feet, hands clenching and unclenching, as if restraining himself from breaking the nearest object in sight- namely, Matt. "No- If I'm number one, I'm L. Near will be at my feet, no- he can go to hell for all I care. And Hex? Hex won't be a problem when she's dead."

The calmer of the two remains seated, completely accepting that his best friend is losing his temper. It is not the first time he has seen Mello like this, and it certainly will not be the last. Setting the chair properly on its four legs, he looks to Mello, saying blankly, "You can't be both L and number one at the same time, Mello. The system doesn't work that way."

"Well, screw the system," Mello hisses, pacing up and down the kitchen floor furiously. His hands are clenched tighter still, his back is rigid, and eyes hard. "When- _when_I'm L, I'll create a new system. No asshole can ever be number one, not while I'm alive. Number One will be just me, just as it should be. I'll be the best the world has to offer. Not Near, not Hex, and not anyone. Just me."

Matt looks vaguely disgusted at Mello's selfish intentions. An eyebrow shoots up inquisitively as he peers at the blond. He says his next words very carefully. He is already too aware of the dangerous grounds he is treading on. "You know… I've been wondering for a while now; why do you want to be L so bad? What does the world have to offer you? Why does being number one matter so much? It's a title, and titles shouldn't matter."

The older teen freezes in his tracks, looking stunned. Apparently, Matt has struck a chord in him. "Well I don't know, Matt," he drawls sarcastically. "Maybe it's just that the world is fucking fickle, and they don't give a shit about you unless you make it big in life. Maybe it's just that people like us- people like you, and me, and damn it, even Near- no one ever stops to listen to us. No one cares."

"True that," Matt allows thoughtfully. "But we never give people enough reason to listen, anyway."

"Maybe not _you,_" he says bitterly, "But if it slipped your notice so easily, let me remind you that I'm already big in the underworld. But does that matter? No. The underworld's not enough. I want the _world_to listen, Matt. I _know_ I'm worth something… but I'm not worth enough if I'm not number one!"

Matt nods slowly, absorbing all his best friend has confessed with unyielding composure, filing the information in his mind for safe-keeping. "That's what you think of yourself?" the hacker ponders aloud. "That you're 'not worth' anything if you can't be the best?"

The blonde's eyes flash in irritation. "Were you even listening?"

"'Course I was, Mel," he says. "I just didn't think your inferiority complex was this bad."

Mello looks at him suspiciously. "Who said I felt any inferiority? I know I'm superior. I just want to get rid of any potential threats to my goal."

"Like Near?"

"_Especially_ Near."

* * *

_A/N: For Hex's part of the story... well, I used symbolism. The whisky represented Mello, and the red wine represented Matt. Huzzah. And the purpose of Mello and Matt's conversation? A couple of reasons, namely: 1) to contrast both Matt and Mello, 2) some more character development. I like making this Mello very selfish, 3) to ensure that the next couple of of forthcoming chapters will make complete sense, and 4)++? I can't tell you. :D_

_Again, my many, many apologies, for the delay in posting this chapter up. I'll be replying to reviews through PM. :D_


	15. Fourteen

.

**_A_**d**r**e_n_ali**n**_e_ **R**u_s_h

.

_Your defenses were on high.  
__Your walls built deep inside.  
__Yeah, I'm a selfish bastard.  
__But at least I'm not alone.  
__- Was it a dream?, _30 Seconds To Mars

_Chapter Fourteen_

Conversation between Mello and Hex has become- strained. There is hardly any witty comeback anymore, no more pointless banters and snide, yet fond exchanges. Hex knows it is wrong, but she misses it all terribly. Even if it does give her a –ton heavy- reminder that she shouldn't be looking at the world –at Mello- any different than she has done before she ever met him.

Days flicker by, faster than the speed of light, and Hex thinks her… bond with him has already turned frayed at the edges. She spends the least amount of time as possible at the apartment, barely any, if she can help it. Hex takes too many odd jobs and mafia assignments and just does whatever the heck Mello says so she can get away from him.

She doesn't care if she is tired to the bone; that she is feeling so confused, hurt and so very bitter. Hex doesn't care that she is not getting any closer to formulating a proper plan to see Mello's demise. She just needs to get away.

To run away. It is a talent of hers, after all. Matt has even said so years before.

Hex closes her eyes as a breeze passes by; reveling in what little sense of relaxation she can muster within herself. She stands on the rooftops of the apartment building, facing the setting sun in the distance. It is twilight now, and the air is cold. Her skin is cold, her hands are cold. Hex is cold, and alone again. She bears with it.

She misses it.

Hex doesn't know how long she has been up there, but she estimates that it has been three to four hours. Everything sounds drowned out and faraway in her near-idle state, but Hex swears that somewhere in the back of her mind- somewhere she would have overlooked had she not been searching through it-, if she really strains her ears, she can hear the sound of bells ringing periodically. Just ringing. Chills crawl down her spine, and this time, it has nothing to do with the temperature.

Her solitude doesn't last long either. She senses the presence long before she hears it, and she takes a wild guess at who it is, calling out his name. "Mello."

"I think there's something you should look at," he tells her, deciding against returning her greeting. "I might have spotted a few hiccups in the news broadcasts on Sakura TV station, but we can't be too sure. You're good at observing video feeds, aren't you?"

She sighs imperceptibly, but doesn't make a move towards the roof exit. Hex doesn't yet answer him, deciding, for once, to think before she acts out. She knows now that anything she says will be taken into account, analyzed under a microscope and tested for hidden meanings. Hex honestly does not know why she has never thought to be this careful around Mello before.

Hex had used to be so relaxed around him.

"Hey." Mello peers at her curiously, probably slightly confused that she isn't yet jabbering away with her latest bit of nonsense. He settles himself beside her, not close, but not far either. It only heightens her awareness of him, dragging her into feeling discomfort and… other things that she can't exactly name. Emotions that she isn't so sure she wants to name.

She finally answers thoughtfully, recalling one of the many things Aiber has taught her. "Observation isn't a skill. Observation can be improved when one stops long enough to take notice of the more minute details."

"O-kay?" Mello raises an eyebrow. It is clear that he has not been expecting the reply. "So are you going to see what I've got or what?"

Hex hides her scowl. "Maybe later. There's no need to rush, is there?"

He doesn't notice her subtle tone of agitation, or if he does, then he does not comment. Instead, he says, "Didn't you want your mentors avenged?"

She finally turns her heavy gaze to him. Her eyes are dark and brooding, thoughtful and calculating. Something flickers behind Mello's eyes, something like suspicion or confusion. She supposes Mello doesn't like what he is seeing now.

Good. That makes two of them.

Hex sneers, "How typical. I've been gone for a week, and it's only been what, five hours and you come here, telling me to haul my ass downstairs because you think I don't need to take a breather. Oh _no, _Mello's top priority. Hex has to do what he says when he says it. Kira's gonna be Hex's main focus because Mello says it is."

"You alright?" Mello asks, not at all fazed by her explosive rant. "You're being hot-headed- more so than usual.

Hex swallows down a nasty retort, reminding herself that she needs to stay calm to gauge his reactions and words. "I'm tired," she sighs, trying her best to keep her temper down. "So quit bugging me, for once, and go back to doing… whatever you were doing. I need to think."

And silence falls upon them like icy shards- cold and crystal clear. Mello has nothing he should say that he doesn't have to hide. And Hex? She has nothing she should say that will come out in anything less than anguished whispers. She just wants to close her eyes again without Mello lingering there with her. She wants him to turn away and leave her alone. And she waits for it patiently.

Only, he never leaves.

And he is the first to speak after a while. "When did you get back?"

Hex decides not to appear so hell-bent on having him gone. It will only increase his paranoia of her. It has been growing at an alarming rate, ever since she had returned to the apartment, pissed off beyond his understanding, without the pills for Mello that Matt had sent her out for. She had stalked past them and into the bedroom, outright refusing to leave the room until she stopped beating herself up about her mistake.

Mello is her mistake.

She looks at him from the corner of her eye. Unlike then, Mello is healthy and sober now. He stands confidently with her, as if he belongs there. He isn't looking at her, though. His eyes are distant and thoughtful, but it does not make Hex lower her guard down or relax even the slightest bit. She knows Mello is most dangerous when he is quiet. She can never guess what he is thinking until he acts out.

"I don't know- around two in the afternoon?" she replies. Hex is more careful of what she says around him now, but she knows that there is no potential harm of revealing this bit of truth to him. "I was in the apartment, but you were asleep. Did you miss me or something?"

Mello's lips twitch, but he doesn't smile. The next few words he speaks aren't a direct answer to her question, but they might as well have been a confirmation. "I never catch you long enough to talk anymore."

"We're talking now."

His expression goes carefully blank. The wind picks up again, and his hair is blown gently with it. "That's not what I meant," he murmurs. "And don't think, not for a second, that I don't know what you're doing."

It takes half her energy not to draw out her gun and shoot him. She cocks her head aside, feigning patience. "Don't think, not for a second, that you know what I'm doing."

Mello pretends not to hear her. He looks at her suddenly, eyes locking right onto hers. Hex determinedly glares at him. She refuses to look away, because that will only solidify Mello's beliefs.

"Hex," he asks firmly, "Why are you running away from me?"

Immediately, her instinct to lie kicks in. It is only natural, for a person of her profession. She raises an eyebrow, eyes deadpan and uncompromising. "Really? That's what you think?" she snorts, unimpressed. "You're not so hot at seeing how I think, Melly-bean."

"Then why do you always leave?" Mello demands. He is thoroughly befuddled. His brow knits and his eyes narrow at her. Searching and bemused. Frustrated and once again, apprehensive.

She finally looks away from him, a scowl taking over her features. "You know… Considering you've known me for almost four years now, I would've thought you already knew the most basic things about me." She runs a hand through her blonde tresses, frustrated. "But you barely know a thing, do you?"

Mello is quiet for a moment. Hex's heart goes pounding hard in her chest, the sound echoing in her ears. Away from his line of sight, she bites her lip. She doesn't quite know what she's playing at right now, but she'll make it up as she goes. All that truly matters is that Mello must remain on good terms with her. Mello's suspicions of her running away must remain as that: mere suspicions.

She thinks she must divert the conversation down another path.

And Hex will lie through her teeth once more.

Mello rebuts with a not-so-clever, "Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. You barely know me either." Apparently, Mello seems to be at a loss for words as she is.

But she adapts faster, and words pour out of her mouth quickly. "I know you better than you think."

"_How?" _he dares her, lifting his chin up defiantly.

Hex doesn't need to rack her brain to answer him this time. "I know that you're thinking to overthrow Ross from his position as mafia boss. I know you're expecting me to support you with that, with everything. I know that you can't sleep so well at night. I know you drink because you never seem to be able to stop thinking. I know you don't like to kill, and you won't use your gun if you can help it."

"That-" Mello starts, but she cuts him off.

"I know that your favorite colour is red. I know that you hate sweet food, but you eat it all anyway, if I leave any for you. I know that your right hand twitches when you're angry. I know that you can write, and that you're working on a book right now. And I know that behind your stupid brash, badass exterior, you're just something selfish. You don't want to avenge L. You just want to be him."

"Hex-"

She turns around and marches to him, so close that their noses are touching. "I know that you don't trust Matt- or me. I know, and I don't blame you. I know you hate my cooking. I know you look at me when you think I'm not looking. And I know you I know that you can't stand me, but at the same time," she shifts closer, her lips ghosting over his. "You want me."

Mello lowers his head slowly, eyes half-lidded and dark, but she pulls away swiftly. Hex forces out a heavy sigh and tilts her head up to stare at the sky. It is no longer in pretty hues of red, orange and pink, but rather, it is as dark as she feels. Almost pitch black. There is no moon tonight, and no stars. Just… nothing.

She feels hollow for the stunt she's pulled on Mello, but she manages to push it away. Mello seems to have forgotten his mistrust for her for the moment, just as she has wanted. But a little voice in the back of her head tells her that she might have gone a bit too far. Hex doesn't need to pretend not to listen. Another voice, loud and clear, in her brain tells her that this is it.

This is the epiphany she has been waiting for.

This is the plan that will have her see to Mello's end. The method in which she will be able to gain Mello's trust. She suppresses a malicious grin with difficulty.

She was not number two in Wammy's for nothing. Hex's concoction will be foolproof. Failsafe. Perfect.

Hex will have Mello fall for her.

A violent bout of indecision rushes in her veins like fiery ice. It sends her mixed feelings, both of excitement and guilt. She understands the former emotion, but the latter? Not so much. There is supposed to be nothing to be guilty about. Mello is using her, and she is only getting her revenge. So ease up, she tells herself. This is it. This is what you want, I tell you. I swear.

She blinks, brought out of her reverie by Mello's steady hand on her right arm. Hex eyes dart back and forth from his hand and his face. She thinks Mello is only making things easier for her. In an impressive act of frustration, tiredness and resignation, she lowers her head to gaze at her feet. She says quietly, "I know you. But you don't know me, do you? … Or don't you?"

She has never thought that lying to him could be so easy, and yet so… painful. She closes her eyes and wills the sensations like Mello, they never leave.

"Look at me." Mello's voice is strangely hoarse. His free hand –surprisingly gently- finds its way to the side of her face. His fingers trace her cheek, the curve of her jaw, and finally settle under her chin. He lifts her head up slowly. His eyes take in her features slowly, like a silent caress. "You're… you're right."

Hex tries not to smile triumphantly. Mello will catch on to her game if she does, and it will spoil the moment anyway. The older boy speaks again, and his voice is just as low as before. "I _am _thinking of overthrowing Ross, and I know you'll help me. I can't sleep well at night. I drink. I hate killing."

He buries his nose in her hair, inhaling the scent of her watermelon shampoo. Hex is frozen, eyes wide. But Mello continues, "My favorite colour is red. I hate sweet food, but I eat it all anyway or you'll bitch." He chuckles throatily, and Hex pretends that she did not just shiver.

"Behind my stupid brash, badass exterior," he murmurs, "I'm just as selfish as you are. You don't want to avenge your mentors. You're just in this for kicks. For yourself."

Mello settles his forehead on her shoulder, and she stiffens. She has never had prolonged physical contact with anyone before, not even with the men she's tricked before, not with anyone. But she supposes she should have expected it. People in the sort of relationship she plans to… instigate with him will need… tons of it. Physical contact. She turns her head slightly and finds a curtain of blonde hair hiding his face from her.

"I don't trust you, but you've told me plenty of times that you don't trust me either," he says. "I don't blame you."

He brushes his lips at the underside of her jaw, the movement feather light. Hex wouldn't have felt it if she is not so hypersensitive, suddenly. And his nose traces its way up her cheek. Hex's hands twitch to touch Mello, but she isn't so sure if she can move just yet.

"I look at you when you're here for me to look," he says over her skin, and Hex feels warmth rushing to her cheeks. "And I can't stand you, just as you can't stand me. But at the same time…"

His lips hover over hers like it had happened just seconds before. Hex stops breathing as Mello says, almost inaudibly, "I want you."

And, clichés be damned, she swears she loses her train of thought when Mello finally presses his lips onto hers. His eyes, half-open, remain locked on hers for a moment before he shuts them slowly. He begins attempting to coax a response out of her.

This isn't, by all means, her first kiss. Given her profession as a con-artist, seductive moves like flirting and kissing are a given. But… But she realizes, somewhere in the darker recesses of her mind, that this kiss will not be another one of those that she gives to men before she kills them. No. This one… with Mello, will be-

The first one that she's ever gotten, when it counted.

Her eyes flutter shut.

* * *

_How to use XVIII: An individual with the eye power of a god of death can tell the name and life span of other humans by looking at that person's face. By possessing the Death Note, an individual gains the ability to kill, and stops being a victim. From this point, a person with the Death Note cannot see the life span of other Death Note owners, but they will not be able to see his/her own life span._

* * *

Mello is encouraged at the fact that she is finally responding, and his hands settle on her, one on her waist, and the other, at the small of her back so she won't pull away. The kiss is careful, almost bitterly sweet in a way. They've knocked noses once, but he supposes he should savor the moment anyway, because he has a feeling that she will run away again.

He feels her drape her arms over his shoulders, and she presses herself against him softly. He notices vaguely, how she seems to just fit in his arms. She is soft, hesitant, and warm. It is such a complete contrast with her rambunctious, loud self. Mello cannot help but wonder if this is what she will be like, when she finally trusts him enough to begin a… relationship with him. If one can call it as such.

Because Mello has intentions of gaining her trust with all this kissing and holding. So he can achieve his goals.

Or at least, that is what he keeps tells himself.

Mello knows that his intentions are to just kill her in the end, to dispose of her because her death will soon be a stepping stone toward Kira. Mello knows that to have her co-operate, he should have her trust him. He doesn't have much time before he has to initiate his plans. He has a year, at most, to have her wrapped around his finger.

But at the same time, he cannot help but feel an unbelievable guilt for what he is doing. Here he is, with a powerful, influential girl, in his arms. And she is willingly lowering her guard for him. And he intends to kill her, for all she is worth. What kind of man does that? What kind of sick, demented, man does that for his own personal gain?

A part of him whispers, That's just you, kid_._ There's nobody like you.

Mello suddenly questions why he has thought that to be a good thing before.

Suddenly overcome with –horrible guilt, eating up at him with an insatiable hunger- frustration, sheer confusion and anger at himself, he is the one to end the kiss. He pulls away after one last peck, and then he rests his brow on hers. His eyes are shut tight now, but he senses Hex's confused eyes focusing on him. Right at him.

"I did something wrong, didn't I?" Hex asks, sounding uncharacteristically shy.

He grits his teeth. His hands clenching and unclenching in an attempt to vent off his anger. Damn it, using her is supposed to be easy! Four years ago, at that condemned building where he had first met her, he had hated her! He had sworn that he'd be glad to be rid of her, and he had wanted to be able to do it as soon as the opportune moment arrived. But now?

Now?

Mello is having second thoughts. Mello thinks it will not be so easy.

Blast it all. Hex- he has been lusting after her for years now. Yeah, but that had only been lust, nothing more than an unhealthy infatuation with her. But infatuation is supposed to be temporary, is it not? Shouldn't have whatever he's feeling for her be gone by now? Why is it still here? He is still lusting after her, and he is still so, very infatuated. He is stuck, and he's in deep.

He has made out, and even gone all the way with women before. They were impersonal and meaningless, and Mello can never remember their names. None of them has had successfully made him… feel. Just feel, like Hex does. And he has done nothing more than to kiss her.

"No," Mello rasps, finally answering her. "You've done nothing wrong."

Quite the opposite. She has done everything right, in her own weird, awkward ways. But she has done it all, nonetheless. She has kept him company, kept him fed and ready with a bed to sleep in. She has taught him how to shoot, kill, and how to lie. She has helped to bring him to where he stands in the mafia today. And he will damn it all in one year, or less. He will pretend to forget –if he can-, and he will send her off on a fool's errand.

Something that will have her… dead.

The thoughts hurt much more than they should have. Much more than when his mom had died –he had been too young anyway-, and much more than when L had died –he was too angry to be hurt anyway. He only wishes that he has a better plan, one where no one dies. He wishes he can think of a plan where victory is his, and happy endings can go all around.

But Mello's got nothing.

And he knows that it is either him, or her.

And if there is one thing he has learned from Hex, the one thing he can never forget... It is that in this life, it is survival of the fittest.

* * *

TBC

* * *

_A/N: And so things begin to get a little complicated. Funny isn't it, how they're alike? :P _

_Reviews are love._


	16. Fifteen

_A/N: Officially updated._

* * *

.

_**A**_d**r**e_n_ali**n**_e_ **R**u_s_h

.

_We are the nobodies._  
_Wanna be somebodies._  
_We're dead,_  
_We know just who we are._  
_- The Nobodies, _Marilyn Manson

_Chapter Fifteen_

The dry wind blows past them, a directionless meander in the air. Mello opens his eyes at the light, yet stinging sensation, and wonders why the chill of the night has suddenly gotten worse. It could be all in his head, maybe, but that wouldn't make any sense. Mello's decision to seduce Hex and earn her trust should be bringing him some satisfaction, but there is none that greets him. There is nothing but bitter cold.

And Los Angeles isn't supposed to be cold.

So maybe this is all in his head.

"You keep thinking, Melly-bean," his companion sighs, looking at him with exasperated amusement. "I told you to stop thinking. You keep setting yourself up for a headache when there's no need to, you know?"

Mello glances at her askance, dismissing her advice almost immediately. Hex seems aware of his growing frustration and headache. He wonders if she had read this in his body language, or if it was apparent on his face. If it is the former, then he must be tired to have himself let his guard down, even just slightly. If it is the latter, then Mello would need to work on masking his emotions and thoughts or he would get no further than Phase One of his plan.

"Kira," Mello reminds her, his eyes hardening as he surveys the earth beneath them. There are bright lights, streets, roads. The faint stench of car exhaust that filters his nostrils, and the sight of the streets already thinning of people create mixed emotions within him. He is disgusted by their fear, yet so fascinated. He is bitter that people would rather hide than fight back for full control of their lives, or at least a semblance of it. And at the same time, he is resentful because he has had no part in creating this shift of balance in the world.

Kira has changed so much.

Kira has so much power.

"Death rates have risen by eight percent three months ago," Mello murmurs, grimacing. He resists the urge to pace, for it would not calm his thought processes in the least. "That's a million for every percentage. Kira's getting cocky, and that fake L hasn't been doing anything. I'm starting to think that that 'L' guy isn't going to do anything at all. It could be because he's incapable, or because he's-"

"A puppet?" Hex finishes distantly, looking thoughtful as she considers the theory. "But mind you, the fake L had given us some solid ground to work on. Maybe he's careless, or maybe he's walking us in circles, but if he's under Kira's control, then Kira would've already gotten rid of all the evidence that we've managed to nab. So, what're you getting at?"

Mello gives her a look, warning her not to cut him off this time. "I'm saying that Kira could be the fake L, or if he isn't, then he's at least controlling that L like a figurehead. Being both L and Kira would be an outrageously advantageous position. It would explain why Kira has free reign over the world when that fake L sits back and talks bullshit to reporters."

"That would explain some," Hex consents. "But my point still stands. Why should Kira have not cleared himself off of all the evidence L had on him? Why should Kira not have killed me by now? I know he's used L's database. He wouldn't have gotten Aiber's or Wedy's names without it- and I know for a fact that my name… along with some others, are in there too. Why would I still be alive when Kira has access to L's data?"

Mello's eyes narrow dangerously. "I have two theories, but the former seems more plausible than the latter."

"What's the former?" Hex asks.

He shakes his head and tells her in a dismissive tone, "That Near would find some reason to need to hide your existence. I know for a fact that he's been looking to recruit you."

"Not interested," she drawls, rolling her eyes. "I've got all I need now, so there's no need to seek him out. What's your next theory?"

"I think Matt has been withholding information from us both."

"Please," Hex scoffs, sounding dubious. Inwardly, she is just as curious to hear more. The idea that Mello cannot trust Matt brings her a bit of sadistic glee; Mello would attempt to balance his field and place more trust in her instead, since she seems to be the only one telling him 'honest truths'. As another factor, Mello and Hex have been working as partners for a long while now. It would be a shame for him not to have even an ounce of trust in her now.

Grinning, she holds onto those thoughts. Outwardly, Hex fakes her naiveté; her defending her supposed 'best buddy' Matt, her trust in the weight of Mello's words. She fakes it all. "Matt has no reason to lie to us." Better to say 'us' rather than 'you'. She needs to keep Mello believing that she still thinks she is in this with him, together. "He's here because he couldn't go anywhere else, because he had nowhere else to go. He's here because he needed our help. He's here because he trusts you, and because you're his friend. You think he'd throw it all away for the sake of a lie?"

Her words hit him close to home, she knows. Hex watches as Mello makes it a point not to meet her in the eye, and she doesn't care if he is guilt-ridden or guilt-free. It all comes down to the fact that he is using her, and that he intends to kill her when it all comes to an end. And no matter what, she will not have it.

Mello clears his throat, suddenly tight with air constriction. "There are things- people do things sometimes, despite all the consequence, the misery. People do things because it feels right, or because it creates a bigger picture in their mind. Something greater. Bigger futures, greater rates of survival- things like that. But none of it applies to Matt. He'll survive this case either way, so he has no reason to lie to us. And what is there to gain anymore? What is there to lose?"

"Don't you trust Matt?" Hex peers at him quizzically, this time genuinely curious.

"I- I really don't know anymore."

Hex laughs softly, bitterly. How ironic. She can still remember the fifteen year old boy who dragged her away from the rave, trusting, earnest, and desperate. Compared to him now, anyone else might have thought that that boy is long dead, or a part of their imagination. Mello is nineteen, and he's paranoid and occasionally murderous, and distrustful. Like herself.

Only difference is, she had done this to herself by force, and Mello had done it willingly. Hex is still her same, exuberant self and Mello is too different. He is calculating and suspicious of everything and power hungry.

And because of this, Mello might be too far gone for redemption.

* * *

_How to Use XXI: __Those with the eye power of the god of death will have the eyesight of over 3.6 in the human measurement, regardless of their original eyesight._

* * *

What is survival?

The answer is subjective, but Near acknowledges that its unanimous definition is 'staying alive'. Now that the world is cowering under Kira's reign, people only do just that; stay alive. They all run, scatter, stay away from trouble, and hide. They are all like roaches of society, all brainless but wired to do nothing more than just survive.

Kira's reign is a reign of artificial peace, one instilled by fear, blood and death. Human mindsets are slowly evolving, and now the concept of crime or wrongdoings, no matter how slight or severe, is looked down on with complete disgust. People think that staying in line would keep themselves from death. Most forget that there are worse things than death itself. Most people, but not all.

There are rebels, criminals and masterminds who like to think that they could outwit that Murderous Maniac. The surviving criminals these days are the more intelligent, more careful ones, but even they don't last long. Driven by instinct, they commit another sin. Driven by stupidity, they sign themselves off to never wake again.

Kira kills them one by one, just like how dominoes would fall. He picks off the weakest of the rest and works his way to the tougher criminals, the ones that need to be shaken up or frightened enough that they cower or submit. But Kira doesn't forgive anyone, not even those who repent. He kills, and murders and slaughters humans like how one would kill livestock.

And in the end, if Kira's strategy plays out as well as it is going now, there would be no more crime at all.

No crime, no hate.

Near deeply despises the notion of it.

It is all flawed logic. A crimeless world is a world without meaning, a world with no conflict and no challenge to life. One could tag it as 'world peace', but one could also have himself sat down for a three hour video lecture on why world peace is a bad idea. World peace is supposed to be unachievable for a reason.

To aim for a completely nonexistent global crime rate is foolish. Insane. Peace instilled by fear will have no right to be called peace at all, and to have no crime may work in the beginning, but sooner or later, it will result in nothing more than chaos. Peace is good, and crime is bad. The bad and the good are present for a reason, and if Kira exterminates of the bad, there will be too much good for the world's own good. Then balance will be lost.

No balance, no peace.

More hate.

"Are you alright?" Linda asks him, frowning. "You seem to be distracted."

Near doesn't yet make an outward reaction, keeping his eyes on the chess pieces on front of him resolutely. He has a half-hearted strategy for his next move, his mind still preoccupied by the thoughts that have settled in his mind recently. He nudges his rook forward two spaces with one pale finger, and says finally, "What are your thoughts on Kira?"

She blinks. Linda has already expected him not to answer her question, but she is still unused to his unrelated questions and odd inquiries. She bites her lip, tilting her head sideways as she considers some of her thoughts. Linda has a habit of taking too long to answer a question. "Either a beast or a God," she quotes, and then smiles. "I think you know what I think. I detest him, same as you do."

"'Detest' is such a strong word," Near murmurs, toying with his hair out of habit. "I prefer the term… 'Repulsed'."

"Being repulsed is reasonable, I suppose," Linda considers, moving her knight piece. "My feelings for Kira go no deeper than hate. I feel nothing more other than disappointment. I know what he's doing, but I can't… feel repulsed."

"Interesting," Near says, tilting his head slightly. "Why?"

Linda flushes, "You know why."

"Do I really?"

She frowns. "Don't you? Oh, never mind. I think that whoever Kira is, he must be very intelligent to pull off his schemes… Well, either intelligent, or very stupid and shallow. Two wrongs don't necessarily make a right. I acknowledge that he is removing criminals from existence, but it doesn't justify a thing. Murder is still murder, and in the end, it all comes down to the fact that murder is wrong. Murder is a crime, and Kira is a terrorist. A murderer- a criminal, no more, no less."

Near hums his approval of her words. "And how does this conclude to your hate?"

"Kira murders. That should be enough reason for me to hate him," she says resolutely, her eyes flashing. "He killed those who'd been left of Wammy's first three generations- B, Q, J, Poe, Ade, Happy, and who knows? He could've killed Matt o-or Mello. I detest Kira because he killed people I care about. I detest Kira because he killed L, and L was the only one who had gotten so far in the case. L was the closest thing to justice I had ever imagined."

Linda turns her eyes to him hopefully, but Near keeps his eyes on the chess board, moving a piece. She says, "But you're going to get even farther than L, right? You're going to win. L said you'd possibly be the greatest mind to have ever come from Wammy's- you could be the greatest out of all of us. You could beat Kira, and have things returned to a state of normalcy."

"Naiveté will be your downfall," Near admonishes, not at all caring how Linda almost cringes at his cold tone. "Even after Kira, people will have the ability to recall all he has done. Not even time will erase his memory. Nothing will return to normal. People are too narrow-minded to open their eyes to a better existence."

"But," Linda persists stubbornly. "You're a genius. You can fix it."

"A genius I may be, but a genius isn't infallible. I have my strengths and weaknesses, just as you have yours. L said I was the brightest mind, but life does not always rely on cold logic. Yes, I can get farther L has ever gone, but I cannot do it alone. There is a reason why L has had three successors, and not one."

The woman's frown deepens as she stares at him. "So… Mello and Matt-?"

Linda comes to a reluctant understanding. She remembers that at the same year L had decided to go against Kira, L had finally chosen his successor, or rather, successors. Linda has been around Wammy's long enough to realize how odd it was that L had chosen three successors, instead of one, like he had done for the first three generations.

But now, it all made sense. One person couldn't be L alone. The first few of L's successors were a testimony of that. A fell under the pressure, B lost his mind. Z was institutionalized, and X had died.

Near is right; each person has their strengths and weaknesses, and combined minds would better overcome these weaknesses, as well as strengthen the other assets. Two bright minds are a dangerous combination, but to put three intellectual minds, each of different fortes and faults, together would have made them all a dangerous threat to Kira. Near, Mello and Matt would have been virtually unstoppable together.

Only L didn't foresee the trio going their own ways.

"So," Linda breathes, her eyes slightly widened in awe. "You're trying to track them down before you make a move?" It would be the safest way to go about things.

Near replies, "I will be tracking Mello down while being active in the Kira investigation. It would be prudent for us to join forces from them on."

"Just Mello?" she asks, confused. "What about Matt?"

He shakes his head once. "Matt will be too difficult to track, and I cannot afford to spend my energy on a search that may lead to negative results."

"Mello will be easier to track, then?" Linda says, trying to digest this overload of information. "But why would he agree to work with you now, when he had turned down the offer before?"

There is a mysterious glint in Near's eyes, one that has Linda uneasy. "I have leverage. Mello will cooperate."

She doesn't dare ask what that leverage is exactly, and Near doesn't care to share. His lips curl in a small smile that still somehow manages to look confident, self-satisfied and assured. Near has no doubt that soon, Mello will return to him, looking for his photograph.

"Alright," Linda sighs tiredly, moving another chess piece. Her conversations with Near have never failed to exhaust her. "But aren't you getting too confident? Mello may have no need for whatever you have, and he could very possibly be working with Matt now."

Near says, "I am certain that he will come to retrieve what I have with me, no matter the circumstance." He looks down to the chess board, moves his queen piece to capture her bishop, and he murmurs, "Check."

"Anyway, it wouldn't make sense if Matt is with Mello now," Linda says. "If Matt had any intention of following Mello, he would've taken Mello's records along with him, and not just his own. Or Matt would've brought along some of Mello's belongings with him. Roger and I have checked their rooms. Mello's things were untouched. Moreover, Matt and Mello have always worked well together. They would have at least found enough evidence on Kira's identity, and knowing them, they would have caused something big… Nothing major has happened recently, not that I know of."

He looks at Linda. "You base your opinions on hunches."

The older girl keeps her eyes on the board before them determinedly. "As you said, life does not rely on cold logic all the time. For all we know, Matt could be Mello's accomplice now, or maybe he isn't. We won't know unless we find out." She pauses, moves a chess piece, and says, "How do we even begin to find them?"

Near stays silent for a long while. He keeps fiddling with his hair, his eyes blank and distant. The conversation has steered in the direction he has wanted. Having thought through all this before, he knows all the pros and cons of telling Linda. Near will only extend the necessary information to her, and in exchange, she will provide him what he wants.

"I have evidence suggesting that Mello is in the company of a former Wammy's student," he begins, and he uses his queen piece to capture Linda's rook. "Check. Do you remember X?"

Linda's eyes widen in surprise. "From the first generation? There'd been rumors about her committing suicide after she'd been institutionalized… but I suppose, if Mello's with her, the rumors- they were just rumors. So, she has never been institutionalized." Linda frowns. "But… why would she be with Mello?"

"That is what I intend to find out," Near replies ominously, dodging the question despite having an inkling to its true answer. He knows that Mello has sought Hex out to aid him in the Kira investigation, but how exactly she will do that for him is still a mystery to Near. "Do you remember X, Linda?"

Her brow furrows in concentration, her brown eyes squinting as though she trying to see past unclear memories. "Near, it's been almost thirteen years."

Near's eyes narrow imperceptibly. "Do you remember her, or don't you?"

She pauses at his persistence, and gives him an odd look, studying him intently. Near doesn't always do things with intent, but Linda realizes at that instant that it is very important that she must remember. So she leans back in her chair, gently massaging her temple as if it would jog her memory. Her silence is long and tense, but well worth it.

"I don't recall much," she starts. "But I remember her being three or four years younger than me- perhaps around your age. Obviously, neither of us knows what she is like now, but I recall her being a bit of a handful. She had little sense of right and wrong, and the kids she played with used to take the brunt of it, because she was rarely ever caught at doing anything she wasn't supposed to be doing."

Linda frowns. "If her performance in the Wars is any indication, I'd say she's a criminal now. But why would Mello associate himself with a-" she trails off for a moment, and realization hits her. "You don't suppose Mello's a criminal now too?"

"Unless evidence proves otherwise, then yes," Near replies tiredly, and dismisses the subject. "Do you remember what X looked like?"

She looks at him quizzically, but Near detects a trace of suspicion. "Why would you need to know that?"

He doesn't immediately answer. "She is the reason Mello is able to evade my radar. X –or Hex, as she calls herself now- specializes in evasion and information gathering. It is no wonder that Mello had sought her to aid in his investigation of Kira, but I digress."

"Recently, I have discovered X has been residing in America," Near says. He isn't lying. Hex may have succeeded in removing the locating devices implanted in her and Mello, but Near is not a fool. Hex has a pattern –a barely noticeable pattern, but a pattern nonetheless- in her thefts and crimes. "With more time, I will be able to properly locate her, but I need a failsafe way to know that it is truly her and not an imposter. Where I find X, I will find Mello."

"You need me to sketch her appearance," Linda states, realizing her part in this. "But… what if she isn't with Mello?"

Near's dark eyes meet her own, and Linda strains not to avert her gaze. Near murmurs, "Do you question my judgment, Linda?"

"N-no," she hastily answers. "Of course not. You're L. I trust you."

As if to prove herself, Linda retrieves her sketchbook and pencil from her bag. "My memories of her would mean nothing much. It's been almost thirteen years. How are you to look for a face that's thirteen years older than what you remember?"

"Science," he says impatiently. Linda has never kept up with technology, so it isn't a surprise to him that she has no idea of the programs and devices that can easily age how a person appears on a police sketch or photograph. Hex's face would be his to know soon enough.

Linda makes a distracted noise, opening the well-worn, leather bound sketchbook. She flips the first few, charcoal-filled pages. There are drawings of two doves on one page, a black rose on the other, and trivial other things that have Near quickly losing interest. He looks back to the chessboard.

Near completely misses the last few sketches Linda has drawn, and he does not know it, but this will be his greatest mistake. Near doesn't see the highly realistic portraits of his younger self, and Mello too. Near doesn't see a thing.

When he looks at the sketchbook again, Linda has already begun sketching on a fresh page. She is carefully defining the curve of a six year old Hex's jaw.

Near make his final move on the chessboard.

"Checkmate."

* * *

TBC

* * *

_A/N: I got tired of people characterising Near as an emotionless robot-kid. I saw a trouble-seeking kid in him, so here he is, quiet but playful. Hope you guys enjoyed my characterisation of him. _

_Reviews are love._


	17. Sixteen

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_**A**_d**r**e_n_ali**n**_e_ **R**u_s_h

.

_Too late now to stop the process.  
This was your choice, you let it in.  
This double life you lead is eating you up from within.  
- Broken Pieces, _Apocalyptica ft. Lacey Mosley

_Chapter Sixteen_

Mello and Hex are rarely, if ever, home. Much less at the same day and time. Matt knows that they both do this deliberately— Mello's been making it a point to keep Hex out of the loop of the things he does, lest she be suspicious. What's strange is that Hex hasn't so much protested about the never-ending assignments. It could be due to her restless nature, but Matt has a sneaking feeling that Hex is trying to avoid Mello.

But why?

It is widely acknowledged (by Matt, and more or less the entire mafia) that Mello and Hex has always had a problem with each other. Really, what else could one expect when two opinionated, brash, and hot-tempered people are put together? It is no surprise that Mello wants nothing to do with her, but doesn't Hex like being intellectually stimulated? Matt wonders what might have happened to change her way of thinking.

Should it even matter anymore?

Because it seems that whatever animosity between them has come to a screeching halt.

Matt tells himself not to buy it.

* * *

He wakes up right about mid-afternoon, methodically checking his calendar and finding that on this lovely Sunday, Hex would very likely be home (and by extension, Mello wouldn't be). Matt hums to himself and pulls on a shirt in a half-attempt to look decent. He exits his bedroom with a sleepy smile, and is greeted by an ever welcome silence.

Matt's sock-clad feet pad soundlessly across the floor, his eyes bleary and still disoriented. He stifles a yawn and waggles his fingers at the two blondes cozying together in the living room as he passes by. Mello's presence is a bit of a surprise, but Matt does recall him saying something about wanting to talk to Hex.

… Wait.

Matt freezes in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder with sorely confused eyes. He rubs the sleep out of them, thinking he might have been just imagining things. But he's wide awake now, and he's seeing just fine. His friends are, in fact, in the same room, and they aren't at each other's throats.

Mello is on the sofa, elbows on his knees as he reads a text from Hex's shoulder. The girl is sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back leaning casually towards Mello as she murmurs her findings and theories in a soft tone. At the display of intimacy, Matt frowns in chagrin. To say he is unsettled will be the understatement of the millennia.

If he has ever had any doubts that they've heard him enter, the passing glances sent to him terminate them. Hex gives him a nod of acknowledgment, but swiftly turns her attention back to her laptop. Mello, however, sends him a look of warning. Matt opens his mouth but the blond shakes his head, and mouths slowly, mutely, "Relax. I'll explain later. Let it be, for now."

Matt swallows and looks away, not daring to reply when he is in Hex's direct line of sight. When Mello doesn't say anymore, he takes it as a dismissal and heads into the kitchen. With a frustrated sigh, he runs a palm down his face. He has a feeling that Mello has finally found a way to have his plans come together. Matt tastes bile in his throat.

If Mello is doing what Matt thinks he is…

He doesn't give allow himself a chance to finish the thought. Growing anxious to distract himself, he rummages through the fridge. It is pure coincidence that he can hear Mello and Hex's conversation, but he doesn't pass up the opportunity to keep a trained ear on them. It is a force of habit; he likes being up to date, just so he doesn't struggle to react efficiently is a situation ever calls for it.

Matt catches snippets about military assistance, intelligence squads, theft and the like, and wonders if any of this means more work for him.

"— a private jet for our usage. We also need missiles and launchers installed by the next fortnight," Mello is saying, his voice one of authority. "Rod's letting us have at the mafia's funds. How much do you estimate we will need?"

"I don't know about the jet, but I could ask a friend of mine. We'll need forty million for the last two," Hex drawls, "But when was money ever an object? What I'm wondering is where the hell you'd expect to find an organization that's willing to hand military weapons over to the mafia. Our options are kind of limited, if you didn't notice."

"There's a new U.S. president," Mello muses aloud, and there are sounds of shuffling through papers. "Here. He was elected a while back. His name's David Hope. In his mid-forties, married, one son in his mid-teens… Hoope neither supports nor disapproves of Kira. He wants to make an alliance with L— the fake one with the base in Japan."

Hex is silent for a moment. "When?"

"Doesn't say. That's why we need to act very quickly," Mello replies. Looking past his shoulder, Matt sees him handing her a photograph. "What's your opinion of him?"

The towheaded teen, Matt sees, sizes up the picture, green eyes completely focused. "Tall, lean frame, defined forearms; he plays tennis of badminton… Doesn't pack much of a punch. He'll be easy to take down, if he doesn't have guards with him twenty-four seven. He looks intelligent, but doesn't seem like the kind to respond well to pressure. If you pull the right strings, he'll be easily manipulated."

Matt kicks the fridge door shut, armed with whipped and cocoa. He puts both down and begins to fix three mugs of steaming hot chocolate. If the rings around Mello's eyes are any indication, both blondes didn't get a minute of sleep or relaxation last night. Matt thinks that if the drinks manage to calm Mello enough, he might have a chance of interrogating him.

Listening in again, he hears Mello murmuring in agreement to something Hex said. He says, "I'll need more substantial info before I can blackmail him. I think double agents would be prudent."

Hex turns her head to meet Mello's eyes squarely, "I'll call Ill Rat—"

Who?

"Why him?" Mello mutters distastefully, a scowl marring his features. "I don't think he's to be trusted."

"Why not him?" Hex shoots back. "I'm confident he won't compromise your stinking goals. I did a background check on the guy recently. In the last four years, he's been through some promotions. Now, Rat's in a high enough position that he's got clearance to whatever we'll need. I tell you, he'll get all the dirt on Hoope you want."

Matt's eyebrows shoot up behind his bangs. Mello, being his paranoid self, will probably want him to ascertain whether Hex is right to hold Ill Rat so high in regard. Deciding that it's about time he enters the living room to face them, he puts his finishing touches on the mugs by spraying an overload of whipped cream.

"Who's Ill Rat?" he asks them straightforwardly, watching with amusement as Hex jumps in utter surprise. Caught off guard, she draws out her gun and points it at him unthinkingly.

Mello coughs to hide his smirk, and puts his hand on the weapon, lowering it for her slowly. Hex's eyes dart from Mello to Matt, as if unsure about who she should turn her anger to. She decides on Matt. With flushed cheeks, she spits, "Were you looking for a death sentence, Mattie-boy? My gun was loaded— I could've easily killed you."

"But you didn't," he points out.

She isn't impressed. "Should I have?"

He shrugs, knowing she doesn't mean any of her barbs. "Chill kid. I made hot chocolate."

As he expects, the hostile expression is immediately lifted from her face. She tilts her head and looks at the steaming mugs with interest, hiding the grin toying on her lips behind her hair. "Hmm… Good save, darling."

Crossing the floor, Matt does not hesitate to sit himself directly across them, but not before serving the drinks. With Hex watching him carefully, it is a challenge not to react to Mello's calculating stare. The older Mafioso presses his lips together to signify the importance that Matt watches what he says from here on out.

"Ill Rat," Mello finally says, "Is Weddy's contact from the FBI."

Matt blinks dumbly. "Weren't a number of FBI agents killed off by Kira four years ago?"

"So what? What happened four years ago might not happen again" the girl says around a sip of her drink, rolling her eyes at him. "Besides, Ill Rat is still kicking, thank you very much."

"I say that you ought not let this Rat person stalk Hoope," Matt says levelly. "It's not that I don't trust your judgment, Hex. It's just that— well, he's FBI... You never know if you can really trust Rat or not. Contact or not, there's still a possibility he'll turn against us and do us in. I mean, the mafia's not something anyone would take lightly. I doubt even Rat would pass up a chance to get the mafia caught if it means getting his ten seconds of glory."

Mello considers the information, and then, nods in approval. "And if the fake L and Hoope are to make an alliance, there is no reason that L wouldn't have the president monitored twenty-four seven. If he ever catches Rat digging up dirt, your contact's dead, Hex. I suggest you tell Rat that we'll definitely be needing him soon. Just not right now— and stop pouting, Hex."

"If it makes you feel a little better, kid," Matt says with an amiable, cooperating smile. "I'll uh, keep an eye on him; leak some fake info and stuff and see if he sells you out." As an afterthought, he adds, "If he passes, I'll have him give details on the FBI, so we know who's who, or what they do. We can never be too careful."

"Fine," Hex sniffs, turning her nose up in the air. While she is obviously against their refusal, she knows they are right. "But how else are we going to get the missiles installed, huh? I don't see you guys coming up with any more ideas."

The blond man leans back into the couch, brow furrowing in concentration. Matt mimics his actions, drawing his thumbnail between his lips and chewing idly. That particular bad habit, coupled with his unkempt appearance, shadowed eyes and loose white shirt, has Hex likening him to a sick parody of L. She purses her lips in disapproval but doesn't call Matt on it; he doesn't seem conscious of what he is doing.

The silence that comes is, in Matt's opinion, stiff and awkward. Unable to tear his eyes away from the blondes, he notes that Hex and Mello are awfully nonchalant about their proximity to each other— well, _that, _or they ought to be credited for their acting skills, Mello especially. Matt knows, as a matter of fact, that Mello abhors having anyone invading his personal space.

After what seems to be an hour, but in actuality, is no more than five minutes, Mello breaks the quiet. "Hex… you said the president has a son?"

As if realizing the implications of his words, she sends him a wary look and says, "… Yes. His name is Arnold Hoope."

A smirk touches Mello's features. "Just how proficient are you in kidnapping?"

Matt chokes on his drink, sputtering some out of his mouth and sending them dribbling down his chin. Hex sends him a look of disgust and chucks him a box of tissues. Otherwise, no one pays him any more mind. The girl adopts a deep scowl, crossing her arms over her chest and outright refusing to reply. To vouch for her, Matt says, "What the— Are you serious, Mello? Kidnapping's not something people take lightly."

"Stealing and hacking aren't either," Mello replies, tone firm and uncompromising.

Hex harrumphs. "Touché."

"It'd save us some of our troubles," the blond says, a sinister look crossing his features. "And, admittedly, potentially expose us to more trouble— but that's a given in anything we do." He places both his hands on Hex's shoulders, tightening his grip after she attempts to shrug them off and move away.

His voice outweighs any protest that might have come out of Matt's mouth. Mello continues, "Kidnapping his kid is low, but it'll offer more leverage against him than we might've had in blackmailing him. Don't you get it? If— no, _when _we get his kid, I'll be able to control Hoope like a puppet, and I'll have no setbacks or compromise. It's perfect."

Two pairs of ears perk up at his usage of 'I', instead of his usual 'we'. Hex's head whirs, and her jaw slackens, but not visibly so either of her companions would notice. It wouldn't do to have her pretense discovered when she has only just begun. Feigning innocence, she rolls her eyes and sets her attention on her laptop, looking for any information about Hoope's only son.

Mello doesn't even seem to have noticed his little mistake, the one that had Hex's will to see him dead even stronger. He continues rattling off, being none the wiser, the words spilling from his mouth with utmost ease.

While Hex reacts quietly, Matt reacts in a different manner. His spine straightens, and his eyes dart to Hex's relaxed form in paranoia, worry and fear, all in one. To have Hex realize Mello's slip would simply ruin everything, or worse; have them dead. The gun is still within her reach, after all, and Matt still fears death more than anything.

Frantically studying Hex's body language, he realizes that she's shown no outward reaction at all. When his heart sinks to the lowest part of his stomach, he isn't so sure if it is out of relief or blind fear. Her lack of response does little to reassure him, and it scares him more than anything she might have said would've.

"I've never kidnapped anyone before, Melly-bean," Hex admits quietly. "Much less anyone that's that heavily guarded. I don't think this is the best course of action."

Mello gives her a dirty look, impatient with her. "Why not? You're a thief. Think of it as stealing, why don't you?"

"It's one thing to steal an inanimate object," she replies, her voice still in that dangerously soft tone Matt prefers never to invoke. His eyes dart between the two, already sensing a change in the atmosphere, already knowing that another argument will ensue if neither come to an agreement soon. Hex continues, "But it's completely different when you kidnap someone who's alive. Someone who walks, moves, breathes— someone who can give easily give away my position, Mello—"

The older blond lifts his chin, jaw set determinedly, and his fingers drum against his lap. His mind made up, Mello doesn't allow himself to hear another word of her protests. "Knock him out. Gag him, use chloroform, hit him in the head, stun him— I don't really give a damn if he's in the base in three days time. You—"

"Three days!" Hex whips around to face Mello, her eyes wide in incredulousness, surprise, but also brewing anger. "You're overestimating my abilities, Mello! I told you, I've never done a kidnapping before! You can't expect me to handle something that high risk without knowing what the fuck I'm doing—"

Matt frowns, deciding to stop them before things get out of hand. "Guys…"

"— because that's just a suicide!" Hex's voice is rising an octave, and her voice growing in strength until she is almost yelling, though Matt hardly thinks she notices. She looks near-hysterical and downright furious. "I don't do things without testing them out on a smaller scale, not anymore, damn it— you're trying to get me caught!"

Blue-green eyes flash as they meet Hex's in a staring match. Unthinkingly, Hex rises from the floor to her full height, looking imposing. Mello, still seated on the couch, wears the darkest look he can muster. Both are trying to intimidate the other into submitting, and Matt sighs, realizing that neither of the two remember that he is there anymore, watching them.

"I want my missiles," Mello says slowly, toying with each syllable. "You're going to get my missiles."

Hex's lips curl into something like a snarl. "Kira will kill me."

The blond male wants to hear none of it anymore. Carrying an aura of authority, one Matt assumes is used only on subordinates in the mafia, Mello waves a dismissive hand. He wears a feral grin, as if he knows the next particular words he says he make Hex change her opinion considerably. "You'll take Matt with you."

"What?" flies right of Matt's mouth, but no one pays him any mind. Mello is too busy watching Hex's reaction. He notes the slight tensing of her shoulders, the display of her hands balling into tight fists. He waits for any sign of relief in her movements or actions, but he reads nothing but tired resignation when Hex faces them fully once more.

Wearily, she asks, "You think dragging Matt into this will make any difference?"

"You don't have to be trained to be able to do anything," Mello tells her confidently, trailing his fingers down her arm and settling around her wrist. Hex gives him a faint smile, and allows herself to be tugged down onto the sofa beside him. "And you won't get caught. All you and Matt have to do is break and enter. I'll handle the rest."

Hex's eyes are struck with comprehension. "You'll hack into the video feeds, then. I think you'll need to keep your ears on all phone lines too."

"Of course," Mello replies flippantly, wearing a self-satisfied grin. "Have the deed done A.S.A.P. I'm calling a meeting at the base straight after you arrive. "

Clearing his throat loudly, Matt startles them both by re-alerting them of his presence. He notices that Mello has yet to let go of Hex's hand. Busying himself by picking the lint off of his shorts, Matt says, "I doubt I'll be able to take all my equipment with me— I'll have to follow Hex back to L.A. and then double back to DC."

Mello makes a noise of agreement. "Just drop Hex and the… Hoope kid at the entrance of the base."

Looking oddly neutral, Hex extracts herself from Mello's light grip and stands up. "I'll secure us a flight in a bit. If there's nothing else, I'd like to start packing. You too, Mattie-boy. I want us gone in four hours."

She doesn't wait to hear his reply, already rounding the corner to disappear into her bedroom. The two men keep their silence, staring each other down until they hear the reassuring sound of the door clicking shut. Matt's fingers drum against the arm of the couch, and he waits for Mello to speak first.

"You know who's side you're on."

Matt lifts his head. "I don't forget, Mello."

This conversation is one he's been having with Mello more times than he can count. The words are more or less instinct for Matt to utter now, but he can't help but feel he's only trying to convince himself. If he had made up his mind to begin with, he might not be feeling as much guilt as he does now, when he sees Hex do as Mello says; he might not be feeling sick with fear and apprehension when he sees Mello.

Mello and Hex are both Matt's long-time friends, and to see one manipulating the other, and worse— _letting _it happen... It's eating him up from within. But Matt can't switch sides and aid Hex, not now. It's too late, and the worst has already made a promise to come.

"Excellent," Mello says smoothly. "Keep an eye on her."

"Sure."

With his lips spreading into a malicious grin, Mello looks impatient and almost sinister. Matt inwardly cringes. Perhaps he had been very right when he had said that people could change entirely. Mello says, "The plan's coming together, Matt. You won't be saying a word to her about anything, won't you?"

"Of course not. I got your back," Matt says automatically, raising his hands in mock surrender. He then frowns. "I just— What exactly are you planning, Mello? What are you doing?"

Mello's tone is low, but it carries in Matt's head like he's yelling in his ears.

"You'll see."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the long wait, guys. It's been hectic lately- exams, battling depression, laptop failure... It's all been giving me a headache, and obviously, my muse had suffered terribly. I'm really sorry about that. Anyway, this chapter might seem like a filler, but it's quite imperative in some parts. :D Wammy!Mello is no more!_

_And this is kind of unrelated, but have any of you tried drinking strong green tea upside down? I felt like I was swimming... until I choked. Ahem._

_Reviews are fantabulous. ;D  
_


	18. Seventeen

_A/N: standard disclaimer applied._

* * *

.

_**A**_d**r**e_n_ali**n**_e_ **R**u_s_h

.

_I'm looking at a face, a pointed chin__,__  
__Towards the sky in arrogance.__  
__It easily betrays the closest friend.__  
__A moment lost, no consequence._  
- _Pale, _The Birthday Massacre

_Chapter Seventeen_

_11th March 2009_

"So, this 'Buddy' fellow just so happened to own a free jet to fly us here?" Matt asks, trailing after Hex with interest.

Hex rolls her eyes with a tired sigh, stalking through the aisle at a faster pace. She and Matt arrived at Washington barely a day ago. What with their limited time, no thanks to Mello, they are rushing to have all arrangements settled. Mello may have said he would take care of the White House's security, but she isn't about to take any chances.

What is surprising, considering his allegiance to that backstabbing blond, is that Matt is allowing her to do so. He's made little to no protests about her muttering about needing extra precautions and safety measures 'just in case', not even calling her out for it. Hex doesn't doubt Matt's intelligence; he definitely would've noticed her not trusting Mello's words. She wonders if he will report this to Mello when he thinks she has her back turned long enough.

She looks at him over her shoulder. Matt is looking as innocent as ever, hands in pockets, eyeing a pair of pliers on the racks. They are in a hardware store, their final stop for the day.

"Yeah, he's an old dude. Retired army guy that likes to help us brats out when we need it. I told him we'd be needing him again tomorrow. Tomorrow, we do the job, and skedaddle right out of here."

Matt blinks. "And Buddy's not asking any questions?"

"Nope. He knows not to ask about things that aren't his business. I mean, he knows what I do," she replies finally, picking up a few fuses for future bomb-making. "He was the one who taught Y and Weddy to fly. I was supposed to learn from Weddy, but… yeah, you know the rest."

"How come I've never heard of him?" Matt asks, relieving her from the items she carries. She nods at him in thanks and leads him. They walk down further down the aisle and head into the next one.

After carefully looping wires around Matt's arm, she answers, "Usually, the graduates from Wammy's get access to a select number of contacts, depending on their field of expertise. You're a hacker. What would you ever need a jet for?"

"True," Matt allows, adjusting his grip on a few things. "I mean, I've got a whole other set of contacts I bet you don't know."

She looks up at him with a smirk and shrugs, not particularly caring, but willing to keep the conversation going. "I got my own contacts, plus Weddy's and Aiber's. It kind of sucks having to remember who's contacting who, who's doing what for who— it's all shit, but it keeps me busy, huh? I've got criminals, double-agents, army guys and jet-driving grandpas, among others. Who do you have?"

"Tech-geeks, forensic specialists, double-agents and a few eyes in several governments worldwide. Some of 'em are total strangers, the others are our friends," Matt lists automatically, wearing an amiable smile. "So it's not always awkward or about business. We talk sometimes, just to talk."

Hex blinks, and spins to face him with an excited glint in her eyes. "Wait, wait, wait— did you say… eyes in the government? Care to give me a few names? It's pretty handy if you ask me; you could do all sorts of shit and make stuff up, and no one would think to question you."

"Because that's how I spend my free time, really," Matt drawls sarcastically, quirking an eyebrow upwards at her.

She snickers, tucking a strand of her hair away from her eyes. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you never thought to plant some fake story in a government and see how far they'd take it? If they'd believe it?"

Matt laughs at her and her cheeks puff red. He shakes his head with a smile and says, "What kind of story?"

"We aren't alone in this world," Hex says in her best ominous voice, her eyes darting left and right. "Who the hell knows? I could be right."

The redhead plays along, cracking a grin. "Okay, so somewhere out there, there's a whole other world that's weird looking. And the people there have windows to watch us, like we're the entertainment 'cause they don't have TV."

Hex looks at him in approval, green orbs twinkling merrily. "And maybe they don't look like people. Maybe they're like monsters."

"With wings."

"Why the fuck not, Mattie-boy? Who's to say you're wrong?" Hex says, giggling after him. "Still not tempted to plant a story in the government?"

Matt shrugs, picking up a few thin metal wires. "I doubt they'd tell the public either way. Uh, L told me there's a whole bunch of stuff the government never tells the public. Some sort of conspiracy, I guess."

The girl in front of him scowls the moment she hears him mention L, but chooses not to make a snide comment. "Conspiracy's only fun when you're not the one everyone's conspiring against. If Rodd ever finds out what Mello's up to, Mello's so dead."

Matt nods quietly. Mello is gaining more and more support from the mafia members, and as of now, there is no one that holds more power over them all, apart from Rodd. Matt knows that soon, Mello will 'take care' of that minor setback to his plans. Rodd may be the mafia boss, but Mello is now the one, more or less telling him what to do.

"Well, he's got no other way to do it. But he'll be fine," Matt says calmly, his grin fading into an unsure smile, hesitant to grace his lips. "It's not like mafia members would go into some box to vote for next boss now, would they?"

"Now there's an idea," Hex teases good-naturedly, snapping her fingers. "Only I'd probably cheat so I'd win."

Matt sighs, averting his gaze. "Why is it always about winning with you and Mello? Don't you ever get tired eating up victory?"

"I don't call it victory if I play dirty, Mattie. I just call it a win," Hex tells him thoughtfully, her eyes dropping to her boots. She takes a few steps ahead of him just to place some distance between them. "I thought I told you, I learned the hard way. You can't always win."

Her green eyes are flashing with unwanted memories. She is recalling the Detective Wars. There were plenty of bitter lessons learned, violence at every turn, and no satisfaction in the aftermath. Nothing but remorse and stupidity. It may have been over a decade since it happened, but everything is still ingrained freshly in her mind. She never likes to think of it.

"Hey," Matt says comfortingly, his free hand finding hers and squeezing softly. "Life's too short to be spent being miserable."

She looks at him, agreeing bitterly, "Yeah, life's too short. I guess that's why we all just grew up too quickly. I mean, look at us, Matt, and I mean all of us… A killed himself when he was just eleven. B? A serial killer at sixteen. C? Institutionalized at thirteen. Y? Killed on a suicide mission at six years old. Others get PhD's at twelve, and the rest hit below rock bottom. If they're not shot or killed, then they're the ones at it… We're all too power-hungry."

Matt swallows with difficulty, hating that he is hearing what he has been trying to ignore for the past few months now. He manages to say, "It's just survival one-oh-one. Life's a competition, and no one settles for second best." At his words, both he and Hex think of a certain blond man, suddenly understanding the reasons for his actions, but neither one say a thing about it.

"We always resort to violence," Hex murmurs softly, still averting her gaze. "And nothing ever ended pretty, did it? I wonder... What does that mean for us?"

"… I don't know, Hex."

Her eyes lock with his wildly, green with green. She asks him, her tone even quieter, "What has L done to us, Matt?"

He fights the urge to look away, the instinct to defend the man he's worshipped nearly all his childhood warring with the feeling to agree with everything she has said so far. Matt replies, "He's— he's just trying to make us who we are supposed to want to be."

Hex looks at him curiously, asking the question that still haunts him.

"But who do you really want to be, Matt?"

He answers softly, ashamed. "I don't know. Just somebody else."

* * *

_How to Use XX: When a human dies, a Death Note owner with the eye's of a God Of Death can no longer see the deceased human's life span and name in photos and videos._

* * *

_Six Miles Away…_

Near was born in Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington.

All around him are vendors, streets and buildings that are all as familiar as they are foreign. He can recall certain trees and even the general direction of the apartment house of his old piano teacher. The sights are all able to jog certain unwanted memories, and it has him a little overwhelmed. His birthplace does not feel a bit like home.

He doesn't expect it to.

There is a strange feeling that is settling in him, something he likens to being an immigrant returning to his own country. He feels bare and downright uncomfortable, as if he is being watched, never mind the fact that he is in a car with tinted windows. Roger is driving the rented vehicle with an understanding sort of silence. Near scorns it, inwardly wishing that his guardian would speak so as to take his mind away from reminiscing.

The quiet is kept until Roger parks the vehicle in an empty lot. The elderly caretaker exits the vehicle, rounds it, and then holds the door open for Near. The teen boy picks his favorite toys out of the seat beside him at a deliberately slow pace; contrary to what other Wammy students may think, it was hardly ever Mello who drove Roger up the wall.

"Hurry up, boy!" Roger says impatiently, his face contorting with a deep scowl. "We don't have all day!"

Near ignores him and says instead, "Please bring my bags along with you."

"Our appointment with Ray won't last for more than an hour at most," he argues. "I will not carry your bags."

The albino isn't impressed. Monotonously, he says, "Roger, you're fired."

"I'm working _with _you, not _for _you, you brat," comes the expectedly agitated reply. Roger runs his palm down his face and sighs heavily. Near hides his amusement by lowering his head, stepping onto the pavement out of the car. He notes his own reflection from a large glass window across the street, and finds that he looks barely recognizable under his disguise. He wears a heavy covering, consisting of a jacket, gloves, hat, wig, sunglasses and an unhealthy dose of sunscreen— for protection against direct exposure to sunlight as well as to not stand out.

As if any sane person would wear a jacket in springtime. It is bad enough he isn't anymore used to the warm climate, he doesn't need the added layers of clothing. For the first time in years, he experiences the strange sensation of sweating, and decides he doesn't like it. He tells Roger so, and threatens to fire him again if there isn't any air-conditioning where they are going.

The older man simply rolls his eyes. "Bear with it for a moment, boy. It isn't too far away."

And so they begin their walk, Near shuffling behind Roger closely.

Roger glances at him every few minutes or so, wanting to be reassured that Near is in otherwise perfect condition and isn't about to stumble or melt like a witch in bright light. The guardian is well aware that Near doesn't ever walk if he can help it, and worries that the boy may already be exhausted. Near is, really, but he will never admit it so bluntly.

Instead he asks, "Are we there yet?"

The taller man shakes his head and places a firm hand on Near's shoulder, steering him left and right, away from being shoved about by pedestrians and pets alike. Near doesn't mind too much, more thankful that he wasn't put in a wheelchair like the last time he went out.

Roger replies, "Just a bit longer."

The grey eyed boy twirls an errant lock from the blond wig. "I should hope that everything has already been arranged, for today as well as tomorrow."

There is an affirmative nod in response. "Ray is the best choice for the job. The L before you had hardly ever needed his field of expertise, but considering the circumstances, it's understandable…" Roger checks his watch. "I've sent him the documents via e-mail two days before. He knows L is coming, so you should expect that everything is in order later."

Roger pauses for a moment before continuing. "As for tomorrow, the President has agreed for a conference in his office. The conversation, as you requested, will not be recorded, but monitored by two of his most trusted security guards. We will be escorted in the White House in such a way that no one will see us."

"What did Hoope ask you?"

They cross the road, Roger gripping his wrist firmly. "He was suspicious, but I told him not yet to make an alliance, and that the L in Japan is fake. He wants us to explain the situation to him, but we've prepared for that already. Is there anything else you will say tomorrow?"

Nodding an affirmative, Near murmurs, "I will request a team of specialists to assist me, those of the highest caliber, and perhaps a Headquarters, if it isn't too much to ask. The President needn't know everything unless there is a good reason to divulge the details. Therefore, you may speak with him about my position and convince him, but I will handle making any requests. If I choose to opt out anything, do not question me."

Roger frowns. "I know, boy. Must you treat me like an amateur?"

"If you must treat me like a child, then yes," Near replies smoothly. Roger's grip tightens on his wrist, but Near pretends his blood circulation did not just get cut off. Instead, he says, "You're fired."

"Near," the older man sighs, exasperated.

"Yes?"

"Be quiet."

"I will not be silenced," Near replies calmly. "Where are we going? Is it a place air-conditioned?"

The man pinches the bridge of his nose. "Yes. Yes it's air-conditioned."

Near allows himself a smile. "You are re-hired, Roger."

Roger shakes his head, deciding that Near isn't worth losing his temper. "Look alive. We're here, boy."

The disguised Near looks up from his feet with piqued curiosity, and eyes the modest looking flower shop. From the large window beside the door, he sees a colorful jungle of flowers, all in colorful pots, vases, and hanging baskets. There is a silver sign that reads 'open' on the quaint entrance. Near follows in after Roger, overhead wind-chimes tinkling merrily after them.

Roger leaves his side and heads on over to the cashier, stabbing the calling bell once. Near is pleased to have the rare opportunity to be alone. Since his ascension to L's title, he has been hoarded by contacts, students, and the like. He doesn't mind having himself kept busy, but there are times where he misses going to classes, homework and nine o'clock curfews.

He twirls a lock of his blond wig again, and considers the thought of removing his restricting disguise. It would be a lot more comfortable, but highly inappropriate, considering his identity. He decides to entertain himself by surveying the vast space, filled with colorful flora. There are a few species of flowers which hold his interest. With a contemplative look in his grey eyes, he is impressed to see that all the species offered on display are alive and well, even those that have been taken out of their natural habitat.

Those which stand out to him are Lotus corniculatus which are neatly arranged on a high shelf, Hollyhocks, Marigolds, and Yellow Roses. Having read about floriography on a whim, and having memorized the meanings behind many of the flowers, he wonders if the fact that these particular flowers capture his interest the most is a coincidence or a warning.

A foreign voice breaks his train of thought. "Like flowers, do you?"

"Not particularly. They are tedious to keep healthy," he replies honestly, acknowledging the newcomer with a sidelong glance.

It is a man walking toward him, a slight bounce in his confident gait, and a serene smile on his face. He appears to be in his early or mid-twenties, tall and lightly muscled, with tousled sandy hair and tawny eyes. The nametag on his shirt reads 'Oliver', but Near already knows this is untrue.

With an action that seems to be a cross between a salute and a wave, the man greets him with a jovial, "Yo, Near. I barely recognize you under all that, but Roger said it was you, so yeah." He grins. "This is way overdue, but congrats on being the new L. I'm glad you made it; it's been ages, and last I saw you, you were a little tyke."

He says all of this very quickly.

Near raises an eyebrow, but the shift is so negligible it slips unnoticed. "Have we met?"

The man chuckles, pockets one of his hands, and extends for Near to shake. "Nope, not officially, at least, but I was in Wammy's around the same time you were. I'm not surprised you don't remember me— I graduated three years after you came, but it's not like we've ever talked until now. Anyway, I'm Ray, and it's a real pleasure to be working for you, Mister L. Uh, I have to call you L now, right?"

"No," the younger boy says, though rather uncomfortable with how talkative Ray is. "I would prefer it if you would call me Near."

Ray furrows his brow in confusion, but accepts it with a shrug. "Okay. Your call, little man… But if you ain't L right now, who's the dude in Japan?" Near deems it unnecessary to reply, for the older man hums in understanding just three seconds later. "Ah, I get it. Is the fake L one of Wammy's or—?"

"Anonymous," he replies quietly, frowning slightly in extreme distaste.

"Whoa, didn't expect that," Ray says, his eyebrows shooting up. "Lucky he hasn't tried to locate me or any more of the other contacts, eh? We would've been totally murdered, and that's just not cool, you know? There's been a lot of talk among us, and I heard about what happened to Aiber and Weddy…" He shakes his head and allows a moment of silence in respect for them. Then he says, more softly this time, "Roger said you've been protecting all our names and records –for all of us, even the criminals— ever since. If it weren't for you, Kira would've…"

Near frowns the moment Ray smiles and says, "Thanks, by the way."

the albino averts his gaze, unsure how to respond with Ray's extreme forwardness and friendliness. He switches the subject almost immediately. "Formalities aside, if you would show me what you've prepared—? Although I am quite pleased to be in such a finely air-conditioned establishment, Roger and I have another appointment in two hours." That last part is a white lie, but Ray needn't know it.

The dirty blond man nods understandingly. "Of course, of course. I'll lead you to the back of the shop, little man. I've got some pretty sweet stuff I think you'd like to look at. Took me almost five years to perfect— would've taken longer too, if Matt hadn't lent me a hand. I mean, I'm alright at—"

He really isn't fond of interrupting when someone is speaking, but Near realizes this may be a lead. "Matt was here?"

"Oh yeah, about two-three years ago," Ray says. "Was a real mess, he was; didn't look like he packed much, looked real tired, and said he didn't have any money. I told him he could steal some, of course, but he said it wasn't right. I always liked him. I mean, he was always on the soft side, but he has his heart in the right place."

"Why was he here?"

Ray pauses in his tracks and bites his thumbnail in deep thought. "Well, he was always the quiet type, so I didn't ask him too many questions. He only helped around the shop a little, and even done some good to my computers and tech. I appreciated it. I'm a Forensic artist, sure, but I ain't a tech-geek like him… Speaking of which, he was tinkering around with my stuff a bit more than necessary. He made something like… I don't know, but you know us contacts and Wammy kids are can be traced by L's system, right?"

Near nods impatiently, but already knows what Ray will say next.

"Matt did something. He couldn't be traced anymore, straight after he was done. There were two other people that disappeared off my computer radar with him, one was X, but I don't know who the other one was. And then, Matt just left." Ray looks at him. "You're looking for X, aren't you? That's why you're here."

"Partly," he replies vaguely. "Where is Roger?"

"I told him there was a back entrance to the shop he could use, so he's taking your car and bringing it over. Said he'll be with you in a mo', but that's okay, right? I mean, you don't want him here with you twenty-four seven or anything—?"

Near almost smiles. Anyone who can send Roger away for even a few minutes is a friend in his book. "No, that would be fine. Is the back room air-conditioned?"

"Uh… yeah," Ray says, looking at him oddly. "Anyway, it's an honor to be assisting you."

Near isn't sure how to reply, so he doesn't. He walks behind Ray while noting a few more species of flowers, and they both stop in front of a door, hidden by a massive shelf. Ray explains that it is a need for privacy; apparently, it doesn't only lead to his equipment room, but also to his pseudo-home. Ray opens the door and ushers him in.

He is hit with an artificial breeze so strong it brings a small smile to his face. He sheds his jacket, drapes it over a table, and shuffles after Ray, to a dimly lit area. Near sits himself on the floor, in front of a large machine, already content. Ray looks confused but amused all the same, and begins tinkering with said piece of metal.

Ray chatters happily and Near replies when necessary, their voices accompanied by sounds of beeps, whirrs and clanking. The florist and artist wears an excited grin when he is done setting up, and says, "I'm not as great as Yo-yo or Matt at technology, but I'm high enough above average that I can design pretty spiffy software. You are looking at the latest version of my facial re-constructor. I've hooked it up to my aging matrix."

Near studies the machine again, considers it, and asks, "How does it work?"

Ray looks thrilled by the question. "Well, firstly I need something to work with; it could be a skull, photograph or sketch, like you've sent me. I upload it on my facial reconstruction software, like so." He presses a few buttons, and Linda's drawing of Hex is projected, two-dimensional and in black and white, from a bright light above the machine.

"I'll spare you from the details. Basically, I try to replicate the sketch in a simulation to make it three dimensional. Then, I give the sketch the color details you've provided…" Slowly, the six year old Hex's features are given color and definition. There is flaxen hair, vivid green eyes, fair skin. Ray clears his throat. "If I may ask, why are you looking for X?"

"I require her assistance," is Near's smooth answer.

Ray rolls his eyes, as if expecting the answer all along. He doesn't press the issue, fortunately continuing his explanation. "I play around a bit with how I want her face to look when I age her. I could add or remove certain details and stuff. Here, I've removed her kiddy chubbiness, given her a heart-shaped face, more definition on her cheeks, eyes, cheeks and stuff… There you go. An Adult X."

The albino is very impressed with Ray's work. Hex looks very life-like, but he can't help but feel there are a few more touches missing. On a whim, he tells Ray, "If I were to say that X is now a criminal, working in a crime syndicate, how would you make her look?"

The older man drums his fingers against the machine thoughtfully, and then reaches for his laptop and does some alterations for the simulation. Near watches patiently, and notices that slowly, the simulation-Hex is given a wilder, more ragged look. She is given bruises under her now alert-looking eyes, and messier and longer hair.

Near's eyes flash with satisfaction. "Please print that, with copies, if you will."

(break)

_A/N: Introducing Ray, a florist slash part-time forensic artist. He's a minor character, but he will appear in a future chapter or two. Dost thou lik-eth him? Because I am so far undecided what I think about him. I also mentioned specific species of flowers... maybe, you'd want to check the meanings behind them. _

_Anyway, this is another crucial chapter, especially the conversation between Matt and Hex. I'm getting excited now I'm reaching the post-timeskip time zone. :D It took me long enough._

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Reviews make my world go round. :D


	19. Eighteen

_A/N: Dedicated to _Shu of the Wind_, __for being an avid reader. Thanks for reading and reviewing. :D_

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_**A**_d**r**e_n_ali**n**_e_ **R**u_s_h

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_I __can __see __the __red __flags __waving,  
the __bottom __of __my __heart __is __caving __in.  
I __can __see __there__'__s __just __no __saving __me.  
There__'__s __no __way __out, __I__'__m __going __in.  
-__Red __Flags, _Kerli

_Chapter Eighteen_

Mello may be a liar, but he did mean his word when he told Hex he'd hack into the White House for her. It isn't so much that he's concerned for her safety— he knows she doesn't trust him enough to let him help in any mission of hers— but rather for his mounting paranoia. From the moment she and Matt took off to Washington, there was a nagging feeling that something is going to go very, very wrong.

And Mello is never one to ignore gut instinct.

So he's been keeping hawk-like eyes on the video feeds of the White House ever since. Mello has been gauging every happening by body language and lip reading, and while he isn't so adept in the latter, he knows the place isn't at all bugged for sound. It is a fact he curses the second morning of his careful watching, when Hoope turns away from the camera to answer a phone call. Hoope hasn't done this before, not once.

Definitely, there is something very fishy going on.

"Yeah, I'm in," Mello says into the microphone. "How close are you to getting the target?"

"Ever straight to the point, Mello," Matt's voice appears in Mello's headset, sighing tiredly. "We've got a lock on him. Hex thinks we should perform the uh, job today. Says there's no sense in wasting any time."

Mello rubs a bloodshot eye with the side of his fist, while keeping his other eye trained on the back of the President's chair. The President is facing the window overlooking the grounds of the building, and he is still on the phone, hiding his words carefully. "Don't do anything yet. I'm waiting till I'm positive you guys are secure... There's something the President's hiding, Matt. You think he knows he's being watched?"

"Well, that, or he's a little paranoid," Matt drawls, and there is a distant scratching sound, followed by a 'click'. "I wouldn't know, Mel. Hex and I've been on the target's tail, not his dad's. Your deadline's too short for the kind of thoroughness you're asking for. But you could talk to Hex, if you want. I mean, if you've been in the system, you'd know she's been in the White House a couple of times already."

The blond rubs his temples with an agitated sigh. "Well, she's doing her job right. I barely saw her. What the hell was she doing in there?"

"She wanted a little trial run to see how long it'd take for her to get in and out. She's gonna be the one performing the… job. I'm doing the actual 'escaping' bit," Matt explains, and in the background, Hex is heard whooping in glee. "Uh, yeah. Looks like Hex found our escape vehicle."

Mello smirks faintly, shaking his head in amusement. "I'll talk to Hex."

He hears in faint bickering for a short moment before Hex's voice greets him with a, "What's up, Melly-bean?"

"I think Hoope's hiding something," Mello says hastily, too impatient to explain things twice. "Did you notice anything strange in the White House?"

There is a brief pause, and her tone betrays her slight surprise. "If you were watching like you're implying you were, you'd know that I haven't been anywhere near Hoope, Melly-bean."

Mello bites his tongue, reluctant to admit that he has not spotted her at all. Admitting so would be giving her the upper hand in the situation. Instead, he scowls, pausing from his half-spinning on the swivel chair to eye the video feeds again. He sees, from the CCTV showing the entrance of the White House, a black SUV is entering past the gates. "Answer the question, Hex. Did you notice anything strange or not?"

The girl on the receiving end of the call sounds annoyed. "No. I would've told you guys if I did, but no. The security's been upped when you compare it to yesterday, but I don't know anything else… Oh, Matt and I are getting the target later. Arnold Hoope's schedule says he's playing tennis with a bunch of his friends right now at Hoope's private court."

Suddenly, the video feeds disappear.

The multiple screens stacked on the wall show no more of the White House. Mello's eyes widen in horror and surprise, and he wastes no time in attacking his keyboard once more. He vaguely hears Hex's voice in his ears, but what he hears even more is the pounding of his brain each time he is denied access into the White House's security system.

Nothing.

He tries again, and again, and again.

Still nothing.

"Hey!" Hex yells, beyond frustrated with his lack of response. "What the— Mello? Stop ignoring me!"

Mello mutters a colorful string of curses, slamming his fist on the desk in sheer rage. It takes a long moment to calm his breaths and fight the searing white anger filtering his vision. He pulls the microphone over his mouth and says, his tone low and dangerous, "Put me on loudspeaker. I need to talk to the both of you."

"Wha—"

"_Now,_ Hex."

The girl quiets as she realizes that something must've gone terribly wrong for him to have this sudden shift in mood. "… Okay. You're on loudspeaker. What's up?"

"I've been intercepted." Mello grits his teeth together, and then says carefully, "Have any of you had anything to do with this?"

"I just spent the last ten minutes stealing a car. Nope, I'm not touching a computer," Hex replies. "Are you sure you weren't just disconnected from the system or something?"

"No, I willingly kicked myself out of it," Mello spits sardonically, rolling his eyes. "Of course I'm sure I was intercepted."

Hex and Matt sound equally astonished. They both know that while Mello isn't as high caliber a hacker as Matt, he is still quite formidable at the job. Matt replies dubiously, "Dude, no. Who could've…?"

"I have no fucking clue," Mello hisses venomously, and then tries again to regain access to the system. "Any suggestions?"

Matt is quiet for a moment. "Try again."

"Why don't you?" he shoots back, his blue-green eyes flashing. "I've tried a handful of times already, and I still get fuzzy shit on my screen. What the fuck?"

Hex hums in a quiet, musing manner. "Can you describe the fuzzy shit? Is it like, fuzzy-fuzzy, or is there some kind of tiny code?"

The blond squints his eyes for a moment to look for any kind of code, before saying, "No code. It's just the kind of screen you'd see when the TV goes shitty."

Matt speaks again. "… Hey, Mello. I can't get any access either."

After two breaths of tense silence, Hex murmurs darkly. "I think the security's been shut down entirely. And maybe, entirely disconnected too. That'll explain it, right?"

"Possibly," Matt says. "Maybe Hoope did know he was being watched after all."

"What the fuck are we gonna do now?"

"Say, Mel," the redheaded male asks thoughtfully. "Were there any cameras set up in the security room?"

"… No," Mello replies. "Apart from the bedrooms and bathrooms, that was the only place I had zero access to."

There is the sound of a revving engine. Hex's angry voice appears again. "Why, I oughta—! What are we gonna do now? We've got no idea when the feeds are gonna come back on again! What if they never come back on? We're supposed to get the target today, damn it."

Mello is silent for a long moment. He shuts his eyes tight and pinches the bridge of his nose, willing himself to fight away the oncoming headache. Matt is the one who replies for him, at first. "Maybe we should just hold the mission first, Hex. I— I think it's too risky to go in there without knowing if we're in the clear or not."

"But—" Hex starts, sounding every bit as frustrated as Mello is. "We only know Arnold's schedule for today! We've no fucking clue what he's up to tomorrow, and I'm not about to wait. I told Buddy have us sent back to L.A. by tomorrow. I can't reschedule, damn it. It'll look bad… And even if I reschedule, what if the security doesn't get connected by tomorrow, huh? Reschedule again? Hell no, I'm not about to wait for nothing."

"What if the video feeds _do_ come back tomorrow, Hex?" Matt asks calmly, though he sounds to be almost pleading with her. "We'd be safer then."

Hex growls back, "There's only a fifty percent chance they come back on by tomorrow. I say we get the damn target today. We know his every single move for today already! I don't wanna let this chance slip away!"

At a moment of realization, Mello recalls the black SUV entering the gates of the White House, mere moments before the security feeds failed. "There was an SUV," he says hurriedly, his eyes wide and wild. "It was there before I got disconnected. A black SUV. Any of you know who owns one? Anyone who's in contact with Hoope?"

"No," Matt replies dully. "There are, I don't know, thousands of black SUVs in the area."

Mello's face reddens in restrained rage. "Why can't you do anything?"

"We're not miracle workers," Hex shoots back, sounding like she'd very much like to strangle someone if she could. "What do you want us to do, huh? Become psychics?"

The blond male leans back, giving up on trying to hack into the White House's system. He spins on the swivel chair until he faces the door, and murmurs darkly. "Forget it. The mission's still on. Do whatever you want, so long as you reach the deadline. And about the SUV? Well, Hex, you've got a side job. Find out who the fuck was in there."

Mello hangs up the phone rudely.

In Washington, about three blocks away from the White House, Hex glares hatefully at Matt, and then steps on the gas pedal of the stolen car. She takes the cell phone from Matt's hands and chucks it quickly to the backseat, as if it is burning her. Matt tenses, expecting an outburst from the younger girl, but all that greets him is a steely silence, save for the sounds of mid-afternoon traffic.

Matt breaks the suffocating quiet with a tentative, "So what do we do now, kid?"

Utter silence.

He slams the back of his head against the headrest and closes his eyes tightly. His head is pounding, and his heart is hammering too fast against his ribcage. Matt has never felt so nervous in his entire life. Again, he calls her, in a desperate attempt to thinking for three seconds. "Hex?"

"You heard him," Hex seethes swerving the car to the right, and overtaking three other vehicles. "We find out who was in the SUV."

Inwardly, she is hating how Mello is treating her like his servant. She knows she and Mello have made a deal for her to do as she says, but still she thinks this is a bit… much. Never mind that she and Matt are already severely disadvantaged, they are both about to risk their lives for the sake of Mello's stupid missiles. What the hell?

"How're we gonna do that?" Matt asks, even though he knows the answer already. His stomach is making very uncomfortable twists and knots. It is not only the knowledge that this is such a high-risk mission that bothers him, but it is also the impending sense of doom he has, that the next few hours will go by in a very dangerous blur.

Hex glances at him out of the corner of her eye. "I'm breaking in… Might as well get the target while I'm at it."

* * *

Near exits the back door of the SUV in silence, looking straight ahead of him. Beside him stands one of President Hoope's most esteemed security guards. He is blond, of medium build and height, and wears a smart looking grey suit. In his hand is a large, open umbrella which he holds high over the pale guest's head. The guard is quietly stunned at the sight of him. He looks to be a fragile little boy, clad in only his white socks and pajamas.

This is who President Hoope insists to treat with respect? This little runt?

The boy's elderly, bespectacled caretaker takes the boy by the hand and allows the other guards to escort them both to the president's office. They meander down hall after hall, each one thankfully empty of people. The curious security guard looks to the hidden CCTV in a corner of one of the hallways and finds that it lacks its usual, tiny red light. It is switched off; a rarity to see.

Despite his less-than-acceptable appearance and size, this boy must be very important, the security guard deduces. He wonders what ever for, because never in his life has he heard of someone called 'Near'.

The guard knocks on the large mahogany doors of the president's office, and peers inside in greeting. "Sir, the guests have arrived."

David Hoope nods, pleased that they are on time. He folds his half-moon spectacles and tucks them away. He then folds his arms formally in front of him. "Send them in, Ill."

Ill Rat nods. "Yes, sir."

* * *

Hex pulls over none too far away from the large building, and stares up at the high walls through the windshield of the car with calculating eyes. She isn't nervous about breaking in; she's done it twice before, and she'll do it again without a hitch, even without the cameras to back her up (or maybe she is kidding herself). What Hex is more than just uneasy about, however, is getting out of there.

She'd be carrying one hundred and twenty eight pounds of pure Arnold Hoope on her back, straight from the tennis court to the car. Hex swallows discreetly. It sounds far-fetched. Even for her.

Hex takes a deep breath through a very tight throat and exhales resignedly. "We'll do this very quickly, okay, Matt?"

Her redheaded comrade looks scared out of his wits, his face ashen, and his eyes wide. He shakes his head no vigorously, but Hex attempts an encouraging grin, even if she does have the vague idea that he is worried about the same thing she is. "We'll do fine. I'll be in and out of there before the hour's over, so chill."

"Y-you're…" Matt stops, averts his gaze from her, and starts again. "How are you going to get out of there with the target?"

Hex's grin holds, but anyone who knows her as well enough as Matt will know that it dies a little. Fortunately, he isn't looking. She looks to the gates of the White House and says again, "I'll be out of there before the hour's over, so chill."

It is very apparent that she hasn't yet answered his question.

She reclines the driver's seat and scrambles to the back to get herself ready. She fastens a few satchels and holsters to her belt and stuffs a clean cloth and a tiny vial of chloroform in one of them, then a few hand grenades, her gun, and a lighter in the other few. Hex throws Matt one of Weddy's communicating devices and fastens another over her ear, explaining, "We'll communicate through these. Keep at your computer and see if you could hack into the security."

He turns in his seat to look at Hex rather nervously. "What else can I do?"

She is quiet for a long moment. "… You'll be getting us out of here later, Mattie."

"And if you're not out of there in the next hour?" he presses, his chin set, and his eyes, grave.

Hex ties a jacket around her waist to hide her weapons, grabs their cell phones, and punches a set of numbers in Matt's.

"I'll call you if something delays me," she says with a reassuring grin on her red-painted lips, "But… on the off chance that I don't call… just drive away. Call Buddy."

She hands him his cell phone, and exits the car.

"You won't have to do a thing until I get out, Matt. Until then, you've got nothing to worry about."

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_A/N: Yay! Next chapter should be out by the end of the week. _

_Reviews make me go tingly. :D_


	20. Nineteen

_A/N: My apologies for the lateness of this chapter, everyone. It's been difficult finding any time to write at all lately. :/_

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_**A**_d**r**e_n_ali**n**_e_ **R**u_s_h

.

_The life I think about  
Is so much better than this  
I never thought I'd be stuck in this mess  
I'm sick of wondering  
Is it life or death  
I need to figure out who's behind me  
- One-X, _Three Days Grace

_Chapter Nineteen_

50 minutes left.

_Time to rethink everything. I need a better plan this time. _The words are branded in her head. Hex flits through marble hallways and corridors, not taking any more than just shallow breaths. She had had it all sorted out in her head: Get in, Get Hoope's kid, Get out— all planned to have it done in barely one hour. And then Mello had to go and throw a wrench in it.

Find out who the President's guest is.

It was a whole lot easier said than done.

And she has less than an hour. If it had been best, she would've asked Matt to give her more time. But as it is, it's suspicious enough to have a stolen car parked nearby the White House, with the thief sitting casually in the vehicle. Having Matt just sit there is dangerous for him now as it is. Suddenly paranoid, she flicks her earpiece on and whispers, "Are the video feeds back on yet?"

Matt's voice replies in a crackle. "Sorry Hex, but no. You okay?"

"Just peachy," she says with a roll of her eyes, a smile on her face. "I'll contact you if I need you. I want you to talk only when there's an emergency, comprende?"

"Yeah, yeah," Matt says. "Be careful, Hex."

"Always am, Mattie," she answers, a dark look crossing her features. Of course she's being careful. Maybe she did drop her guard before around Mello, but that's all changed now, hasn't it? Knowing Mello's intentions are for her to die somewhere down the road of time is still hard to swallow. But if ignorance of his plans were bliss, then all this knowledge is power. She licks her lips, her throat drying.

Weddy was right in the end. You can never trust anyone but yourself.

Pulling herself away from the depressive feelings creeping up on her, she wills herself to stop thinking so much. It won't help her right now, when all she needs is sheer focus. She supposes it's just sheer luck that the CCTVs are all down today; not needing to be so wary of hidden eyes will make things a little quicker.

She stops when the next hallway splits into two separate corridors. She knows she's closer to the general area of Hoope's office now, but she can't just march in now, can she? Hex stands there for a moment, trying to reorganise her head. There has to be a better way to figure out the identity of the guest and get the kid without a hitch. Some way to kill two birds with one stone.

Five minutes later, she hears a door close somewhere down the corridor on the right. Two people, men, are heading her way. Hex's brow furrows, and she ducks behind an alcove. Not her best hiding place, she muses with an inward sigh, but it's not like she tried scanned for those types of things around this part of the White House before either.

Shaking her head, she listens to the men's voices. Maybe, if they say the guest's name, she won't have to go see for herself after all.

"Aw, calm down, Howie," the first man says. "He couldn't have been that bad!"

The second man, Howie, grunts irritably. "You didn't see him, Brian. I actually like kids, but this one was a real creep, and that's saying something. Rude as heck, treating everyone like they didn't exist, sitting before the President did—" The men are a few metres away now. Hex wills herself to blend with the wall. She waits, heart pounding.

_Just say the guest's name, _she whispers silently. _Say his name. _

Howie continues, "It was total disrespect."

"Just let it go, Howie," Brian says, "Like you said, he was just a kid. Couldn't have known any better."

"Kid or not, this one was different," Howie insists. "Had something— I don't know, intelligent about him. His guardian was letting him make all the decisions, for Pete's sake." The men pass by her. She sees Howie shake his head, fighting back a shiver. "I don't care how 'esteemed and important' this kid is, and I don't care that he's just a kid either. When you meet the President, you don't come in your white pajamas!"

Hex's breath catches.

Brian laughs in disbelief this time. "Pajamas? Seriously?"

"Take a look if you don't believe me," Howie says. "But he was wearing pajamas— and socks. All white. Heck, even his hair was white. But the look on this kid's face, man—"

Hex tunes them out, the hard, frantic pounding of her heart threatening to drown her. She barely registers the men disappearing from sight and sound, her mind stuck on just one thought. They didn't have to say this guest's name. She has only one guess who exactly this kid is. Flickers of memories hit her.

She was almost seven. It was in a car. Mr. Wammy had just retrieved them, and had wasted no time in telling who won. And it was neither of them. Z was yelling at Mr. Wammy, outraged, saying he'd won against her. The older man simply shook his head, and told them both, point blank, that he was disappointed with them both.

She wasn't surprised; they both had used underhanded methods to solve the case and it ended up blowing up in their faces when Y died. When she and Z's titles and ranks got stripped from them, she'd been too shocked to move. It felt like the world was over.

And then Near, the passenger who'd been silent until then, told the he'd solved the case before either of them. And he did it without resorting to the same means she and Z did. He told them that was why he was the new Number One. The knowledge stung, and she watched dumbly, passively, when Z broke. He screamed and crashed into Near. He beat him in the only way he could then, with fists and hard kicks and screams. Z forgot thought and reacted— and Near just let it happen. He didn't retaliate, and that made Z hate him even more. And then no one saw, but somehow the car door was pulled open— and Z shoved Near right out.

Hex wonders if his leg ever recovered properly.

_Near._

She swallows thickly, an unfamiliar guilt creeping up and entangling with her hate. She does hate him, but not because of his rank, or all he's said to Z and her. Hex hates him because she did nothing to help when he needed it, and he didn't even blame her. He didn't blame Z. He didn't blame anyone. Not when they'd taken him to the hospital, and not when they got him back at Wammy's House. Near just wore that knowing look she's so used to associating with him, and it made it all the more worse. It felt like pity.

Near said he understood. Z acted out of circumstance, he said. And because of the circumstances, you didn't act either, Near said. It's only natural, he said, and I don't hate you for it. "I can't blame you for something you didn't do," he said.

"But you can blame me for something that I could've done," she said.

And only because of him did Mr. Wammy not throw expel her and send her to the Nut House like he did with Z. Hex owes Near. She's owed him for over a decade now. And she hates owing anyone.

Matt's voice in her ear shocks her out of her thoughts. "You alright, kid? Smooth sailing so far?"

With blood pounding in her ears, she takes a moment to answer, but to which question is anyone's guess. "Yeah."

"Mello's asking for an update," the brunet continues. "You someplace secure?"

"Hold on a sec," Hex says, looking around her distractedly.

_Tell Mello,_ screams half her brain in warning. _He'll know what to do._

She swallows, and pulls out her phone. She punches the familiar set of numbers, eyes and mind blank. Mello should know about this. He has every right to know. Near being here could put a dent in Mello's plans. Her thumb hovers over the dial button.

But Mello was against her.

So why should she be so worried?

Chewing on her lip, she pockets her phone again. Hex slides out of the alcove, and heads down the corridor the men came from.

Perhaps she's already figured out who the guest was, but no one said she couldn't interact with this guest. If Near hasn't changed so much, she can bet he'd be willing to hear her out. It was about time she faced him and settle her debt.

"_Near would find some reason to need to hide your existence," _Mello told her. _"I know for a fact that he's been looking to recruit you."_

She might as well make it work to her advantage, somehow.

The right plan suddenly clicking in her mind, she whispers, "I need your help, Mattie."

* * *

35 minutes left.

Down the corridor is a large door, guarded by two guards. She heads over to them confidently. "I received orders from L to report to him."

The first guard looks at her. Hex lifts her chin defiantly, and is more than just a little relieved that she's decided against wearing her usual get-up. Now, in a black pencil skirt and blazer, and her hair pulled back into a low bun, and spectacles over her eyes, she looks less like a rogue and more like business. Still, it doesn't stop the men from asking for her ID. She doesn't expect any less from them.

She hands the card over without hesitation. It's fake, but seemingly authentic, claiming her to be Personal Assistant. She prepared it for kidnapping Arnold Hoope, but she's glad that the card had turned out to be useful.

Hex isn't surprised that they let her through without any more question. After all, if she knew the guest's name when a scarce few did, and her ID was legit, then why would they doubt her so much?

Hoope's office is as grand as they make it seem on TV, ornate furnishings and strategic lighting. But Hex's attention is more focused on the group of men sitting just across the room. She sees Near sitting perched in a chair some ways off, curling his hair and outright ignoring her entrance. Hex isn't sure is she's more annoyed or relieved.

She strides deeper into the room, schooling her face into one of panic. Hoope and a familiar man, Mr. Ruvie stop their discussion and turn to address her. Hex remembers Mr. Roger Ruvie used to be a regular visitor to Wammy's House. She supposes that when Mr. Wammy died, he took up the role as caretaker for all the kids there.

She isn't so sure how, but he seems to recognize her. He blinks, and is ready to open his mouth, when she speaks smoothly, "My apologies for interrupting this discussion, Mr. President, sir. I was told to report directly here to L if there was a disturbance." She pauses, faking a look of worry. "A group of men were seen breaking into the building, sir."

Hoope looks doubtful, but willing to listen. He knows that he's shut down all the video feeds, so there is no proof to back up this claim. Still, he says, "Security would have reported this."

And just as he says this, two men burst into the room looking breathless. "Mr. President! There's a breach in the security. Some of us have been attacked by one of our own."

The President rises from his seat, face grave. "Forgive me, L, for this unexpected turn of events."

Near nods patiently, "We shall continue once the— disturbance has been taken care of."

Hoope smiles gratefully, and then turns to address his men. "I need all security systems back up, stat."

Hex rushes over to Near's side and discreetly places a folded piece of paper— containing her contact information— in his hands. Hearing the president's wish for the video feeds back on is kicking her into action. She needs to act quickly, so she whispers to Near, "I need to leave. Now."

The younger boy gives her a calculating look. "You will explain."

"Later," she hisses. "Give me an excuse to leave. Alone. _Now, _Near!"

* * *

Matt pulls his hand away from the man's pressure point, and watches as he slumps forward and falls unconscious. He looks around nervously. He's only seen the inside of the White House through video feeds before. While everything looks vaguely familiar, they are also alien somehow. He supposes this is what happens when areas captured only in pixels suddenly become reality.

"_Matt!" _the earpiece crackles to life with Hex's voice. _"Target locked. Meet me at the East Wing. I want him to think you're leading him to safety."_

He's about to reply, when he hears heavy footsteps running down the hall toward him, Matt is quick to fall to the floor. He groans and rubs his temple, pretending to just stir from being hit. As he does this, two hands help him up. Matt looks up blearily, and meets the eyes of yet another stranger guard.

"You okay, buddy?" the man asks him. "What happened? Did you see where the intruders went?"

Matt answers sluggishly, voice thick with supposed headiness. "I'm fine. They took us both down behind our backs. Didn't even see 'em coming." He rests his hand on the man's arm.

The man looks around, "Where'd they go? Did you see?"

Matt looks past the man's shoulder and fakes his worry. His eyes widen, and the man turns to face the supposed 'attacker' behind him. Matt doesn't hesitate to stab into the same pressure point. The man lets him go and falls unconscious. Matt stumbles back and starts running down another corridor to find Hex.

Waiting in the car for his friend to arrive was the worst. He tried checking on her, but Hex'd just told him to stop worrying. Matt felt useless, trying again and again to hack into the security system, and in vain at that. He had to sit there, wondering if everything was alright, or if it was all falling to shambles. When Hex spoke to him again, telling him that she needed his help, he was all ears.

She told him to break in, in such a way it seemed professional, but to ensure that he'd be spotted if one was looking. She told him to head into the rooms of the security guards and don their clothes, and start attacking the hell out of them. She never did explain why, only that she needed him to. Still, it was enough for Matt.

Hex is standing right where she said she'll be, speaking with Arnold Hoope calmly. As Matt nears them, he hears that she's spouting nonsense about protocol and ensuring his safety. Matt greets them both politely, feigning professionalism just as Hex is. He turns to Arnold Hoope. "I've received orders from the President, sir, to escort you out of the building."

"What about my father?" Arnold asks. Matt realizes that this guy is probably just a little younger than the both of them. Sixteen or seventeen, but he looks the more composed gentleman than a rowdy teenager. Arnold Hoope stands straight and wears a sporty kind of spectacles that makes him look sharp, even if he is still in his sport gear.

"The President would like to ensure the safety of his guests first," Hex answers, looking around quickly. "As it is, I will have to return to my charge. Excuse me, sir." Behind Arnold's back, she motions for Matt to usher the president's son out of the building and mouths that she'll meet him later. Matt assumes she's going off to find out who the president's guest is. He only hopes she'll be back in time.

Getting out of the building was relatively easy. What security guards he encountered did question where he was going with Arnold Hoope, but the using the same excuse works like a charm. Of course, at least until the kid realizes, after Matt leads him away from the building, that they aren't taking the president's limo.

"Where are we going?" Arnold Hoope asks, looking unsure.

Matt answers, "We've received word that one of the intruders were seen lurking around the garage. Forgive us for the circumstances, sir, but you'll have to take this vehicle instead."

"But—"

Suddenly, a hand whips him in the back of his head. Matt fights back a yelp or surprise when Arnold Hoope falls into a graceless heap on the ground. Looking accusatorily at Hex, Matt asks, "Was that really necessary?"

"We're running out of time," Hex mutters, looking over her shoulder for fear of anyone watching. "Come on. We need to get him in the car. Bind his hands and legs together, would you?"

* * *

Matt is behind the wheel, his feet stomping on the accelerator despite their going at maximum speed for a while now. All he has to do is take one look at Hex and he'll feel glad he helped her. And then he looks at Arnold Hoope and then guilt replaces it, seeping in like nothing else. For even with their surprising success in their first attempt of kidnapping, the fact that it was, for all intents and purposes, a kidnapping,keeps him quiet.

Even Hex is unusually silent, picking off imaginary lint from her shirt. The mindlessness of her action prompts him to believe that there are many things on her mind too. And if her worrying her lip is any indication, she feels some degree of guilt too.

"I didn't want to do this," Matt tells her quietly.

"Me either," she says. Not that this new piece of information makes much of a difference as to what they did or did not want to do. They still did it. And it's an empty victory. One Mello will celebrate with a laugh and drinks and threats to the president. Matt can imagine Mello now, saying to the president, _if you want your son back safe, I want my missiles._

"What do you suppose happens next?" Matt asks, though he knows the answer already.

They were going to keep the boy, and trade him for a bunch of weapons Hex has been trying to tell Mello they don't need. Arnold Hoope truly had no reason to be a part of this, but now it seems, even the innocent are getting caught in Mello's crossfire, all because of his unnatural need to be Number One.

Hex turns her head to the window and closes her eyes. "We go back to Mello."

"Did you manage to find out who the President's guest was?"

Her answer took a while. "It was Roger. He was telling the President that the L in Japan wasn't to be trusted. He also said not to make any alliances with the L in Japan."

Matt looks at her, confused. "That's it?"

She snorts, an irritated by amused smile on her face. "Cut me a break, Matt. I was there for two minutes."

"Sorry," he mutters. "I just thought it'd be something more— I don't know. More secret, maybe? Even I wouldn't have had the video feed system shut down completely for that."

She shrugs. "I guess they thought it was better to be safe than sorry."

* * *

A/N: Review, please


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